Faded Scars
by misscam
Summary: Tragedy strikes Sydney, and it's a desperate fight for survival for most of the Rats and not all will make it. But those who survive – can they truly live again?
1. Prologue & Chapter One

Faded Scars

By Camilla Sandman

Summary: Tragedy strikes Sydney, and it's a desperate fight for survival for most of the Rats and not all will make it. But those who survive – can they truly live again?

Disclaimer: I live in my own little delusional world where Frank, Rachel, Mick, Alex, Jack and the rest of the Water Rats actually belong to me. It's just a happy little dream, Hal, I'm not making any money on it. Won't you let me continue to live in it? Thanks

Author's Notes and Ramblings (with a fair bit of warnings):

The new and old cast get to mingle. Ain't I nice?

This isn't, however, a nice story.

Sometimes life is worse than fiction. I started this story weeks before the tragedy of the terrorist attacks on the US on September 11th 2001. Because my story deals with a somewhat similar situation, a fair warning is needed. I was not in any way inspired by those events, it's one of those very spooky coincidences. If you think it will disturb you, please do not read.

My heart goes out to all those affected by the tragedy.

In my story, hell breaks loose in Sydney. Pretty much literally. If you're faint hearted, you wanna head somewhere else pronto. There's violence, character deaths, some coarse language, bombs, car crashes and many other nasty things.

There is also a little bit of nice stuff and a lot of sex. If you don't wanna read steamy stuff, be careful around chapter four and avoid chapter nine altogether. I mean it. If you insist on reading these bits, take a cold shower and don't go bitching to me is if you feel your own love life is inadequate (I know mine is.. sigh).

Don't say you weren't warned.

In my universe, Lance ain't dead, Jack ain't dead, and Rachel ain't dead. Happy days. The events of the end eps of season six didn't happen either. Having your own universe is a mighty fun thing.. (Hey Mick, my place tonight? Hehe – my universe rules)

This story is over 42,000 words (excluding the author's notes and such). Yes, really. Plunge ahead on your own risk. If you wanna read it in one go, make sure you're sitting well, unhook the phone, have Kleenex within reach, as well as Tim Tams and brace yourself. It's a bumpy ride.

Some thanks are owned, as always

Jules – for some of the betareading, for bothering to listening to my rants about politics (especially with the whole Tampa mess), for helping with Sydney knowledge and just because

Sarah – for tapes, for agreeing with my views when I felt very alone in Australia, for helpful comments and lyrics and well, being the Beta From Hell! ;)

Suz – nag, nag, nag J

When something so terrible happens it's easy to believe in the evil of humankind. So this is dedicated to all those who gives us hope there is something good in us all. To the rescue workers and all those who came to help in the tragedies on September 11th– this is for you. May we all follow your examples and have courage, not hate in these frightening times

Yeah, I'm done rambling now. Let's get on with the story.. (drum roll, please)

II

Prologue

There was no strange and ominous silence, there was no music warning of danger, there was no telltale sign that could make you say, "look, something significant is about to happen."

It was just another Tuesday.

And it was pretty much like any other day in Sydney, a relatively clear sky with a few pecks of clouds here and there and a nice, warm sun. It was early in the morning, so the sun wasn't uncomfortably warm yet. A light morning fog had lifted, and there was simply nothing sinister and dark about the day. It could have been a beautiful day, the kind that makes you feel good for nothing in particular except being alive.

But when stories were told of this day years later, it was said to have been a dark and glum morning. Nobody could believe something so terrible could have happened on a nice, ordinary day. And in a way it was right. It had been a dark day. Only the weather had been nice.

It happened so suddenly no one quite understood what happened at first.

There was a loud bang from the Opera House, much like a firework going off. At first this seemed a logical explanation, and only a few people looked up. Then an orange-red flash came from the Harbour Bridge and the whole population of Sydney looked up in terror.

The second bang was deafening.

The bridge keeled over, metal screeching, sparks flying, flames eating at the train that had been halfway to the other side. With a sickening sound, much like a dying seal, the bridge ripped and the train fell.

And the people screamed as with one voice.

II

Chapter One

Monday morning came floating in with a soft breeze, rushing through the trees and the grass, stirring the water and pushing it against the shores. A few clouds moved lazily as the sun set them on fire, playing with colours more vividly than any painter ever could.

And with the wind came the Footloose, sailing into Sydney Harbour as smoothly as it had sailed out. Cutting through the waves, it had good speed.

The man behind the steering wheel was grinning madly, gazing at the familiar surroundings. Had he really be gone for years? It didn't feel like it. It felt more like mere hours, and yet forever. He had woken a few hours earlier, still anchored for the night, and felt a sudden insistent bang of homesickness.

And so he had waited for the first break of light to sail home, at long last.

Footsteps below told him his passenger was up, and his smile widened.

"Good morning, Rachel!" he declared happily without looking up.

"Hmm.." came the rather tired reply, "What are you doing up so bloody early, Frank?"

She walked up to him, her long hair whipping around her in the wind and he felt his heart light up at the mere sight of her. Her tanned skin glowed in the faint sunlight, and her hair looked almost golden after endless days in the sun had lightened it. Despite a tired look on her face, her eyes twinkled.

"We're almost home," he replied and her face broke into a faint smile. He knew who she was thinking of – her son, David Goldstein. The one person she had been most reluctant to leave behind, so much that she had initially turned down his offer to come with him. He had sailed off alone, almost turning back the first night when he thought he'd go crazy thinking about her. But he hadn't. He'd sailed on.

Then she had been stabbed in the line of duty. It still pained Frank to think about it, to think about how close he had come to bloody well losing her. It had been touch and go, she had been in a coma for weeks.

But she had lived, and a year later she had joined him. It had taken him quite a number of beers to get her to admit why and even then she had been elusive at best. From what he could figure, she had felt alienated from work and quite lost after her near death experience. Jack's name had come up a couple of times too.

And then she had kissed him to stop him from asking more questions. It was a rather effective strategy on her part, as he really couldn't think straight when her lips touched his.

Not that he was complaining or anything!

"What are you looking so smug about?"

"Nothing," he said as innocently as he could. She didn't buy it and gave him one of her infamous glares. He chuckled softly, lifting one arm and pulling her into a semi-embrace. She didn't resist, leaning against his chest as she watched the Harbour Bridge in the distance.

They were almost home indeed. In the back of her mind, a little worry was crawling up. She had been gone a long time. David had flown in to visit them in New Zealand, and he had seemed so much older. She was scared he was slipping away from her. Irrational fear, but still…

A shudder went through her, and she nuzzled her head under Frank's chin. She'd had to leave. It had been too much; the stabbing, Jack's insistent hovering around her, all those looks… The smell of death around her.

So she had run away.

Right into Frank's arms too, and she had a pretty good idea that was what he was smug about. The first morning after she had decided she couldn't keep her hands off him, he'd walked around looking so smug she had threatened to deck him several times, but he still had looked smug. So she had decided to just ignore it.

"Frank?"

"Don't make me wipe that smirk off your face."

"What smirk?"

"Holloway?"

"Yeah, Goldstein?"

"Just steer, will ya?"

II

Jack opened the door to the Sydney Water Police Headquarters and immediately groaned. Donna Janevski had him in her sight, and there was no escape. A quick look behind him revealed Helen on her way in, so his exit was cut off. He steeled himself.

"Yes, Donna?"

"Sophie called."

"Thank you, Donna," he muttered, and tried to make an escape.

No such luck.

"I wanted to ask you..."

'Here it comes,' his mind groaned and he mentally steeled himself again. Luckily, at that very moment Helen stepped in and gave Donna a hard glare.

"Shouldn't you be behind that front desk, Janevski?"

The young woman managed to hide a blush and scuttled off, leaving Jack to send Helen an affectionate look.

"You're a lifesaver."

"I know," Helen replied, patting him on the back. Walking up the stairs, he heard faint laughter, originating from the office. Mick and Alex had to be having a good time, he noted sourly.

And sure enough, as he entered Alex was laughing and Mick was grinning. Those two seemed to do that an awful lot, and quite frankly, it was annoying. This was supposed to be a serious working place. It didn't help that Alex was sitting on Mick's desk either, and the guy was enjoying the view. Her skirt was its usual short length, and Jack found himself involuntarily staring at her legs.

"Good morning Jack!" Mick declared happily, and Alex could barely suppress a giggle.

"What's so bloody funny?"

Both Mick and Alex shrugged, which made Jack even more sure it was something to do with him. Was everyone suddenly out to get him or something?

He dropped down on his chair, fighting an urge to turn around and walk out. Life seemed to be a never-ending source of frustration these days. He felt old, tired, and bloody annoyed. Alex kept on wanting to talk about the kiss that had never happened (to brush him off, he suspected) and bloody Mick still had a smile that could part the Red Sea.

"I hear you two are stuck on the Nemesis tomorrow," he remarked, making the two younger detectives groan.

"Bloody Bush has to stop by on the day of the cricket game," Mick replied. "How did you manage to squirm out of it, Jack?"

"The wisdom that comes with age, Mick."

Mick only snickered, leaning back in his chair and accidentally, on purpose brushing his leg against Alex's. She pretended not to notice, but Jack sure as hell did.

Rolling his eyes, he decided not to comment. As he looked at the heap of paper on his desk, he had to fight an urge to throw it all out the window. Bloody hell. What he really wanted was a stiff drink, a quiet house and temporary amnesia so he could forget that Rachel Goldstein had disappeared out of his life two years ago.

The memory stabbed through his heart, ripping away pretence and all attempts of forgetting.

Two years since she had told him she couldn't stay, and that she wasn't sure when she would be back. He had angrily told her not to call, and she hadn't. He knew she had been with David as much as she could for a while, that much Helen had revealed, and then..

Rachel had left, and he had no idea where she was.

That wasn't quite true. He had an idea, but it was an idea he rather not think about too much.

He stared out of the window rather gloomingly, watching the boats circle underneath the Harbour Bridge.

This was gonna be a crappy day, he could tell.

At least tomorrow there would be the cricket game to enjoy (especially since Mick would miss it). And the feeling of impending doom simply didn't come.

But it should have.

II

The day came and went, and soon darkness embraced the city. And people smiled, because they had managed another Monday. Mondays were always hell. Tuesdays were better.

And at the Cutter bar, quite a crowd was gathering. There was Gavin, driving everyone nuts with baby pictures, but no one had the heart to tell him to stop. There was Matt and Lance, engaged in some drinking contest and eyeing the blonde at the bar. There was Donna, chatting Jack to death. There was Tommy, visiting from Brisbane and looking like he'd never left. There was Emma, chatting to newly recruited George, who was there to help out during the US President George Bush visit.

And then there was Mick and Alex and Jack.

Jack knew he was radiating bad mood, but he simply didn't care. Donna was tying to lighten him up, but she only managed to sour his mood further.

This day had been simply one annoyance after another. His car had been dented by that bloody creep of a teenage boy next door and repairs were going to cost a fortune and take forever. The most exciting incident all day had been a dog the Nemesis had rescued, and the ungrateful bastard had immediately peed on Jack.

What was next, bloody Frank Holloway showing up?

And of course, life couldn't resist showing just how ironic it could be.

"Well, well, well, Jack Christey."

'I just had to think that, didn't I?' Jack thought bitterly before turning around.

"Frank," he greeted less than enthusiastically, but his voice was drowned as the rest of the station got up, even those who didn't know Frank by sight knew his name well enough. The man was pretty much a living legend in the Water Police after all.

"Frank!" Gavin declared, getting unsteadily to his feet. Mick looked like the moon had fallen down. Jack managed to get out of the way before Frank was crowded, but of course, his beer remained on the table and there were too many people in the way for him to reach it.

He let out a frustrated sigh, deciding to head for bed and not emerge again until Tuesday was upon them.

The sight of the brunette walking in stopped him dead in his tracks.

God, she was beautiful. Tanned, and she'd let her hair grow fairly long. It didn't seem quite her though, somehow.

"Hey Jack," Rachel said quietly. She bit her lip, wondering what the hell to say.

"So you did go with him," Jack stated as flatly as he could. She shrugged her shoulders, gazing over to where Frank was surrounded by old and new faces.

"You didn't even call."

"I did. You hung up on me." Oh damn, he had. He'd been so drunk he had just slammed the phone down when he heard her voice, and the morning after he'd convinced himself he'd just dreamt the whole thing. Obviously he hadn't.

They stood in silence for a while, neither knowing quite what to say.

"Goldie!" Tommy called out, suddenly having spotted her too. She flashed an amazing smile, and with one final look at Jack, she walked over to the crowd.

Nope, this day simply couldn't get any worse.

II

A few hours later a rather drunken Mick and Alex stumbled into Mick's living room. The party at the Cutter bar had soon become a very loud and very drunk affair, and finally they had all been kicked out.

They were supposed to have gone to Frank's house to continue the festivities, but Mick had managed to forget the way, and so here they were instead.

Dropping onto the couch, Alex looked around and found it to be very much as the last time she had been there.

"Do you ever clean, Michael?"

"Nope."

"So what's the deal with Jack and Rachel?" she asked, accepting the drink Mick was handing her.

"Office romance gone badly. She nearly died, and Jack nearly lost it. She left, he never got over it."

"That explains a great deal," she said thoughtfully, taking a sip and grimacing as she did.

"Don't you have anything better than this, Michael?"

"What, wine?"

She kicked his leg, and he laughed, dropping down on the couch next to her. Throwing a quick glance at him, she tried not to drool.

Of course she had to have one of the most attractive guys in the police service as her partner. With Jack being so distant lately, she had found herself more and more often in Mick's company. It almost felt like the first year she had been at the Water Police, when Mick had more and less been chasing her until they had agreed it was a bad idea.

And for the life of her, she couldn't remember why anymore.

Especially when he was smiling that damned smile and leaning forward.

He was going to kiss her, she realised.

She lifted her face to meet his kiss, and parted her lips willingly as he deepened it, exploring every inch of her mouth. Warmth mixed with the soft haze in her mind until..

"Alex?" Mick asked, pulling back.

Soft snoring answered him, and he smiled softly. Taking the blanket, her wrapped it affectionately around her and got up unsteadily.

There was always tomorrow. One of these days he would win her over.

II

The moon was high in the sky as Rachel walked into the kitchen where Frank was sitting, calmly sipping a beer.

"Did you manage to kick out the last one?"

She shook her head. "Nope. Emma and Tommy fell asleep on the couch."

"What, together?"

"Get your mind out of the gutter, Frank."

He smiled, feeling strangely happy, despite the fact that the house was a mess, and it would take forever to clean up and he hated to clean.. But it had been good to see them all again.. Well, not all of them. The news that Dave was dead had shaken him up more than he'd care to admit.

It wasn't that he had liked Dave that much, but the guy had been one of them. One of the gang. It felt unreal that he was gone.

"Too bad Jack had to leave early," Frank remarked after a moment's silence. She shifted a bit uncomfortably.

"What did he say?"

"Can we talk about something else, Frank?" she replied and grabbed the bottle he was holding and finishing it in one sip.

"That was my beer, woman!"

She smiled, walking towards him with a glimmer in her eyes. She was going to use that tactic again, he realised and it was the last coherent thought he had as she leaned in.

In the living room, the world was beginning to return to Tommy Tavita. Groaning, he wondered why his chest felt so heavy. Opening his eyes he realised it was because Emma was resting on top of him.

Glancing around, he found the living room to be empty. Well, empty wasn't exactly the right word, there had to be hundreds of bottles scattered around, and the place looked like it had been hit by a cyclone.

A cyclone called the Sydney Water Police. Tommy chuckled, and the movement caused Emma to shift somewhat. Her long hair was tickling his arm. He wondered just how foolish Mick had been to let this woman go.. Oh well, Mick's loss, someone else's gain.

The sound of glass hitting the floor made him look in the direction of the kitchen and his eyes widened.

"Em!" he whispered.

"Hmmm?"

"Look!"

"What?"

"Frank and Rachel are making out in the kitchen!"

"What!" Emma giggled, trying to suppress her laughter. It was rising in her throat, and her body shook with the effort to keep it bottled down.

Frank and Rachel were certainly going at it all right, with her sitting on the counter and him hungrily kissing her neck.

"Shiiiiiit!" Emma muttered, "Should we.. umm.." She looked down, realising she was lying on top of Tommy. A small blush crawled up her cheeks. Tommy just looked mildly amused, as she struggled to get off as silently as she could.

They tiptoed out, and started laughing hysterically as soon as they were outside, leaning on each other not to fall.

"What was that?" Rachel tore herself free from Frank's embrace.

"Emma and Tommy leaving."

"Shit," Rachel muttered, "Think they saw?"

"Yep," Frank grinned. The whole station would probably know soon, and he didn't mind one bit. Well, maybe, except for Jack.

He had seen Rachel and Jack at the Cutter bar, and it hadn't been a pleasant image. Frank hadn't liked it one bit. Sure, he was the one screwing Rachel, but what about her heart?

It had been an off-topic subject for the whole trip, and he had gone along with it as long as she stayed. He was willing to take whatever she had to offer, and so far it had pretty much been sex. That was fabulous enough, but.. He'd like to have her heart too, at least some part of it.

As she leaned back into his embrace, a sudden fear leaped into his mind. One thing was losing her when he had never had her. But now… It would both better and worse, and he didn't even know if he could really live through losing her anymore.

So he held her like there was no tomorrow.

II

Jack came home to an empty house. Slamming the door behind him, he groaned at the loud sound it made in his head.

Bloody Rachel Goldstein.

And bloody Frank Holloway.

He leaned his head against the cool brick wall, feeling the haze of alcohol lift slightly. He'd got the hell out of there as fast as he could, but the memory of her standing there, looking so damn…

He was still hung up on her.

"Shit!" he cursed, still leaning against the wall. He could remember every sound, every smell, and every movement as she had been stabbed. It was like a movie reel, a reel he couldn't control.

The doctors hadn't expected her to live. And he hadn't dared hope.

Angry, bitter and filled with a sense of revenge he had set out for the person who had done it, and nearly managed to screw up everything as he went along.

And then she had awoken from the coma miraculously, and he had felt like he had been given a second chance. He had stood by her, treading around her like she would break if he pressed her too far.

That, in retrospect, might not have been the best tactic. She had pulled back from him, further and further until she was out of reach no matter what he did.

"Shit!"

To his horror, he felt tears for in her eyes. Rachel might not have died, but he had lost her that day nevertheless.

II

Tuesday morning came in with such a soft wind it barely stirred a leaf. A light morning fog settled, drifting lazily around the Harbour. The sun rose slowly, drying off the light dew in the grass. Just any other day.

And yet not.

Sydney was preparing to greet the US President, for one thing. Showing off the best, as always, and hiding the worst. Canberra had done the same thing the day before, pretty successfully too.

And so the residents of Sydney prepared to smile for the camera.

Alex awoke to a splitting headache, and a terrible feeling she had done something stupid. Just what, she wasn't sure, and the way Mick was walking around and smiling made her even more unsure. But he said nothing, and she didn't ask.

And they set off to work in silence.

In another part of town, Helen and Tayler set off to the funeral of Helen's aunt. Helen didn't really want to go, but Tayler had insisted.

Jack set off to make sure his car was being fixed properly, feeling a desperate urge to focus on anything that didn't relate to a certain brunette. His car seemed as good a thing as any.

On the Harpy, Tommy was joking with Gavin and Emma, while Matt was on the Nemesis, waiting for the two detectives to arrive. Lance still had official sick leave (and everyone envied him).

And Jeff overslept, to his great annoyance, and decided to skip stopping by the Opera House. Unbeknownst to him, that saved his life.

On the Footloose, young David Goldstein was running on deck, looking taller and much more like Rachel than Frank remembered. The boy was growing up to be a heartbreaker.

"Where's Mum?" David finally stopped to ask.

"She needs to talk to your dad for a while," Frank explained, "So how about you and I go sailing?"

"Is it as fast as the police boat?" David asked hopefully.

"Let's find out…"

The fog lifted and the sun broke through.

II

The train rattled off and onto the Harbour Bridge. Glancing over at her aunt, Tayler gave her a small smile.

"I'm sure…"

Something went click.

"What…?" Tayler began, but her voice drowned in the roar of flames and as a bang so loud it tore into her ears and seemed to stab through her mind. She wanted to clutch her ears, but a sudden jerk threw her forwards and something hard and sharp greeted her.

The light flickered off.

The train fell.

Helen wasn't sure if she was screaming or not. All around her hundreds of voices screamed, and she simply could not make out hers among them. Her body was falling, falling and falling and falling and she tried to cling onto something, but the metal was too hot.

And then the water came at her and she remembered nothing more.

II

The Harpy was buzzing around Harbour Bridge, keeping an eye on the boats in the harbour. On such a sunny and nice day it was a lovely place to be, the sun reflecting in the brilliant blueness of the water.

Although the reason for the crew wearing sunglasses was more the night before than the sun.

"Hey Tommy?" Gavin called, "How did you sleep?"

"Shut up, Gavin," Tommy muttered, glancing over at Emma and trying not to giggle. If Gavin only knew…

Gavin grinned, interpreting their silence rather differently, his smile fading quickly as a sudden bang tore through the sounds of the water.

But before he could see where the sound came from, another, louder and nearer sound made him look up. At the Harbour Bridge.

Looking up, Tommy saw the metal bend and heard the bridge groan. And there were screams, screams that would haunt him until the day he died. They were screams of terror, of death and unimaginable pain.

"Oh my God.." Emma whispered in terror, her eyes wide.

And then the Bridge came rushing down at them.

II

The Footloose leaped through the waters, merrily, almost like the ship itself was grinning. David certainly was, although complaining it wasn't quite as fast as the police boat. But what it lacked in speed, it had in movements, each wave releasing a new sky of water falling on the young boy.

"Frank?" the twelve year old suddenly called out.

"Yeah?"

"Why are there fireworks on the Harbour Bridge?"

Looking behind him, Frank saw flames erupting from the Harbour Bridge and he nearly lost hold of the wheel as shock pulsed through his body.

"Bloody hell!" he declared.

"You shouldn't say that," David said accusingly, but Frank didn't hear. All he heard was the terrible groan as the bridge tore in several pieces. It was like a string being snapped. Suddenly there was nothing keeping it up.

The sun glimmered off the top of the train as it fell with the bridge.

And the wave came at them.

II

Traffic was moving slowly, and Jonathon used the occasion to do his second favourite thing in the world; argue.

"Be reasonable, Jonathon!" Rachel complained, knowing that was the one thing her ex was incapable of. And surely enough, he was shaking his head as the lights finally changed and the cars sped forward.

"Rachel, you're not.."

There was two loud explosions, one merely seconds after the other. Rachel had a second to glance out the window, and see smoke from the Opera House. And the Harbour Bridge. Her heart stopped and all she could do was stare.

"God…" Jonathon muttered.

And suddenly the car before them stopped, and they slammed into it. The front window immediately shattered, and she covered her face from the splinters. She felt Jonathon's body slam into hers as the car went around. Something sharp scraped against her skin and her head was ringing.

The car rolled at least twice, and landed the right way up, knocking her head into the ceiling. She felt her seatbelt cut into her hips as it kept her from going out the front window as the car jerked violently when another car slammed into their from behind.

Next to her, Jonathon fell over the steering wheel, blood pouring from a wound in his head.

And when she finally looked up to where the bridge once had been, half of it was missing.

Then there was another sharp jolt as a car from the other direction came right at them.

And Rachel didn't even have time to scream as they went around again.

II

Jeff watched his fish swim around, drizzling fish food into the water. It was a moment of peace in between all the running back and forth and sneak listening to the cricket game. He knew the rest of the gang was doing it to, and he graciously pretended not to notice.

Bloody Bush had the worst timing. Besides, Americans had no sense for real sport. Football with padding.. Meh!

The glass shook only slightly at the first bang, but violently as the louder, second bang echoed through the city, powerful enough to wake even the dead.

Jeff saw the explosions mirrored in the glass, and even as he turned, he knew something was terribly, terribly wrong.

The flames played over his face as he turned, his mouth falling open. He stepped up to the window without thinking, as if he could reach the doomed people on the bridge and help.

George came running in, stopping dead in his tracks as he saw what was happening.

"Holy shit..."

They could only watch helplessly as hundreds of people were plummeting to their deaths.

II

"This is boring!" Mick complained, glancing over at Alex.

"What, watching an historical meeting?"

"I never liked history in school," he countered, and she smiled somewhat, but her attention stayed on the Opera House and the commotion in front of it.

She and Mick were standing on the Nemesis, watching the crowds watching US President George Bush and Prime Minister John Howard. The two were flashing bright smiles, she could tell even from the boat, being all "Australia and America, best buddies."

She threw a quick glance behind them, where several boats were circling. Why exactly the Water Police had to be there, when military and special police was practically swarming all over, she wasn't quite sure.

It wasn't like anything was gonna happen, well, except her partner getting bored to death.

"Truth or dare?" he suddenly asked.

"What?"

"Truth or dare," he repeated, "Come on Alex, you've seen the prime minister suck up before."

She sent him a glare, but he only smiled innocently.

"If I say dare, is it gonna be something indecent?"

His smile grew, and she felt her own lips begin to form a smile against her own will. God, that man had a catching smile.

"Truth," she declared, and she could practically hear him pout. "Fine. Dare then."

The bang ripped through their grins, years of training causing them to snap to attention within seconds. It was a sound every soldier knew, and the reaction was immediate. Even as Mick and Alex looked over to the Opera House, the boats next to the Nemesis were already in movement.

"What the fuck?" Mick muttered, staring at the Opera House where flames were erupting and people were screaming and running.

'A bomb' his mind concluded, but even as the situation began to sink in, there was another loud bang, this time from the Harbour Bridge.

It was like watching a movie. Half the train was lifted into the air, flames roaring and people screaming as it started to fall again.

The bridge keeled over. And within seconds, it tore it several pieces, as several more explosions went off.

And the Bridge fell.


	2. Chapter Two

Chapter Two

Rachel didn't remember how she got out of the car. She remembered flying, soaring through the air. Suddenly she was on the ground, lying on the grass and sucking in the fresh air. Her lunges were screaming, and her heart seemed to be thumping so hard it hurt. The seatbelt must have been cut by debris, because half of it was still hanging on her.

Glancing around her, she immediately noticed the wrecked car and her ex. Hanging out of the car by his seatbelt, Jonathon seemed lifeless. She crawled over to him, groaning as her knee scraped against a piece of cut metal.

He wasn't breathing, and had no pulse. Panic rose in her, as she fiddled with the seatbelt, gently guiding him onto the grass. She trained not to move him too much, fearing he may have other injuries.

"Come on, Jonathon!" she breathed, beginning CPR. 15 compressions and two breaths. Or was it three breaths? No, two. No, weren't you supposed to start with five? Her hands shook as she began. "Come on, damnit!"

He didn't respond. She wasn't sure how long she kept at it, but at one point her efforts died away and became a hopeless pounding on his chest.

"Damn you!"

He was dead, and there was nothing she could do.

He was dead – the man she had loved once, who she had shared the miracle of David with. He was dead.

Tears began to form in her eyes, as desperation arose. What the hell was happening? Leaning against his chest, she clung to him. And all around her, similar scenes were being played out.

Hell was breaking loose in Sydney.

II

The bridge fell. And with it, thousands of pieces of debris, showering over the water.

The Harpy was struck.

Everything happened at once. A huge twisted iron bar fell on the boat, throwing them all off the boat as the front of the boat was plunged under water. A huge wave washed over them as the biggest piece of the bridge hit the water.

Kicking wildly, Tommy tried to push upwards and reach the surface, his lungs screaming for air. His left leg throbbed with pain as he finally broke the surface. Coughing, he managed to draw a breath of air before going under again.

The water was pulling him downwards, almost like a small maelstrom but desperately kicking, he managed to reach the surface again.

All around him in the water pieces of metal were slowly sinking while parts of the train were floating. And bodies. So many, many bodies. For a moment that felt like eternity, he had no idea what to do. His mind froze.

Then he saw Emma, floating face down a few metres away. Even before his mind urged him to react, his body had already sprung to action and brought him next to her in a few strokes. Blood was pouring from her abdomen, and as he turned her, he saw the metal bar embedded in her stomach.

"God, Emma!"

As careful as he could, he leaned her body against his one arm, using the other to push forward in the water. He could barely hold on to her, but desperation gave him extra strength.

Debris was everywhere, and he could just make out what remained of the Harpy floating several metres away.

There were no signs of Gavin.

"Gavin!"

Looking around widely, Tommy felt a cold panic flood through his body, melting with shock as he saw that the waters had turned red with all the blood. He had to get Emma to shore, but…

"GAVIN!"

The sea didn't answer.

II

The Nemesis rocked violently, and Mick was thrown against Alex, both tumbling onto the deck. The sound of the water was overwhelming, drowning out everything else.

"Ommpppp.." Alex complained as the wind was knocked right out of her, Mick's body squeezed against hers. The boat thrashed as wave after wave came at it. A wave washed over the deck, soaking both Alex and Mick as they struggled to get up

And suddenly the waters were calm. Too calm, as if all the energy had disappeared. The Nemesis was still afloat, luckily.

Slipping on the wet floor, Mick managed to get up on his knees, glancing over the side of the boat to Harbour Bridge – no, to where Harbour Bridge had been.

His mouth fell open.

"Oh my God," Alex said quietly beside him, tears brimming in her eyes, but she didn't allow herself to cry. Her body shook – not because the wind was cold, but because something in her mind had frozen. She wanted to look away, but it was impossible. Her eyes were glued to the scene on the water.

Faint cries could be heard, cries of the damned.

"We.. We have to.." Alex muttered, the words not quite forming in her mind. Mick seemed to understand though.

"Matt! Go to the bridge!" Mick called out, wincing even as he said it. There was no more bridge, well, not anything resembling a bridge left anymore.

There was an ominous silence.

"Matt?" Even before turning, Mick knew there could only be one reason why there was no reply. There was no one else but them on the boat. He was ready to dive into the water to look for his mate, when a huge metal bar struck the waters next to the boat.

"Shit!" he exclaimed.

Gunfire made both Mick and Alex look to the Opera House, where people were running and several screams could be heard. Before they could even take it all in, hands took hold of the side of the boat and a man tried pulling himself onboard.

Springing into action, Mick helped the man up, but couldn't help a surprised gasp when he saw who it was.

US President George W. Bush. He'd obviously dived into the water and swum from the Opera House, where gunshots still could be heard.

"Terrorists," the president gasped, out of breath. "Must.. Not be.." He swallowed hard, his eyes bulging as he stared where all the military boats had been circling and where the Harbour Bridge once had been.

Mick climbed up to the controls, but immediately noticed the sparks flying from the side. Glancing down, he saw that pieces of debris must have hit. He tried not to think about how powerful the blast must have been to propel metal that far.

Glancing down, he saw no signs of Matt in the water either, but there was blood. Lots of blood.

"MATT!" he called, staring out over the sea. Debris was floating everywhere, it would be dangerous to dive.

The engine didn't reply as he tried starting it up. He kicked the side, frustrated, but that didn't do much good either.

"We're dead in the water!" he reported.

"Nooo," whimpered the president, leaning heavier on Alex. Even as he opened his mouth to complain even more, the sound of a speedboat coming closer made him look up.

Alex turned too, and fear gripped her spine and lungs so hard it was a miracle she was breathing.

Terrorists. And the machine guns they were holding were pointed towards the Nemesis. She heard Mick come down to stand beside her, neither trying to take out their guns. It wouldn't do much good, except get them killed.

But even so, the chances of surviving seemed quite slim.

II

Jeff tried to concentrate on what he should do, but his mind felt rather slow to respond. It was busy trying to understand just what had happened. The Harbour Bridge was a symbol of Sydney. How could Sydney be Sydney without the Harbour Bridge?

Then his mind registered that there had been a train on there.

And his people - his people had been close by.

He tried working his mouth to express his horror, but he only got out some unintelligible sounds. Next to him, George was having similar problems.

Breathless, Donna came running in. Neither turned to look at her.

"On the radio… They said.. The Opera House.."

She nearly tripped, large sobs escaping her. But it was her reaction that finally woke the two men up from their shocked haze.

"Janevski, get on the radio. Find out what the hell is going on. Try reaching the Harpy and the Nemesis. NOW!" Jeff snapped, and she turned and ran. He immediately felt bad about snapping at her, but shit.. He couldn't think about that now.

"George, get the rest of the Station. Find Jack. This is an emergency. We will probably be called in to assist on rescue missions."

"Yes, sir," George replied, beginning to walk out. In the doorway, he turned, hesitant. "Do you think there are survivors?"

"There have to be," Jeff said confidently, wishing he felt as confident as he sounded.

There had to be. There just had to be.

II

Jack wasn't sure what tipped him off something was wrong. He had exited the mechanic's workshop and walked onto the street to get a bloody taxi, when he suddenly stopped dead in his tracks.

There were no cars on the road. There was just a dreadful silence, as if the world had stopped while he was inside and not started up again. Glancing around, he couldn't see anyone on the streets anywhere.

An eerie feeling that he had just missed something very important came over him. He lifted his glance to the skyline of Sydney, over the Opera House (big commotion, had to be the presidential visit), the water, Harbour Bridge (didn't seem to be there), Luna Park..

Very, very slowly he lifted his glance back to where the Harbour Bridge.. Well, wasn't.

'I must be dreaming,' he thought desperately. 'The bridge just can't vanish.'

He closed his eyes and opened them again.

Harbour Bridge still wasn't there. He could see the sun glimmer of metal in the water, and he realised the bridge must have fallen down. But how? How could that monster of a bridge possibly fall?

And now he realised all wasn't well by the Opera House either. Black, black smoke was drifting over the white roof. Straining, he tried to see what was happening, but he was simply too far away.

He nearly had a heart attack when his cell phone began ringing. Fumbling, he tried to extract it from his jacket and nearly lost it in the process.

"Christey," he replied, surprised to hear his voice shaking. "Yes, George. I know."

II

They were roughly searched and disarmed, forced into the small boat and brought ashore. All around them, gunfire could he heard. And screams.

The terrorists were armed, and Alex tried not to look too hard at them. They were masked anyway, but she had read somewhere you were more likely to survive if you didn't know your captors. Mick on the other hand, was staring at them quite thoroughly, and she wanted to punch him.

'Don't you dare die!' she thought, as they were hounded up with some other people and pushed inside the Harbour Bridge. God, how she wanted him to wrap his arms around her just now. Screw being a strong, independent woman right now.

Where were all the military and the police anyway? She caught a glimpse of bodies, before a man grabbed hold of her hair and dragged her inside. She let out a surprised cry of pain, trying to twist away.

"Hey!" she heard Mick call out, as she was forced down the stairs and into a large room.

There had to be a hundred people in there, most of them looked they were just normal people. But she could see John Howard in a corner, being watched carefully, and the US President was being forced over there too.

Hostages. God. They were all gonna die.

'Get a grip, Alex!' she thought forcefully, and managed to calm her breathing.

And that was her last thought as something slammed into the side of her head.

Mick saw the terrorist slam the gun into Alex's head, and white-hot anger washed over him. Without thinking, he tried to reach her.

"Alex!"

"You stay away!" a man ordered, leaning over Alex and muttering something about damn cops in a very American accent.

"No!" Mick snapped, pushing against the guy holding him off.

There was a blur of moments. Next thing Mick registered was that he was on the floor and a boot came down heavily on his throat. He tried to struggle, but his head was screaming out desperately for air. Only pain came.

"Stop it!" a strong voice called out, and to his astonishment, Mick felt the boot being lifted. He took a deep breath, the sweetest breath he had ever taken and coughed. Scrambling to his feet, he saw that the terrorist had stepped away and Alex was lying on the ground. Blood dripped from her cheek.

The terrorist who had hit her was getting an earful from what seemed to be the boss about waiting with that stuff 'til later', but Mick didn't really listen or care.

He managed to stumble over to Alex, lifting her body off the floor and leaning it against his.

She was breathing.

And for a second, that was all it took to make him happy.

II

Rachel wasn't quite sure when she stopped shaking, but at some point a strange calmness came over her and the tears dried away. The worst had happened. All she could do now was get through it. Then she could break down.

And out there somewhere were Frank and David. They were alive. They were alive, because if they were dead, so was she. She couldn't live without them.

There had been a time when she had thought she couldn't live without Jonathon too. It felt like a lifetime ago. The last few years there had been more resentment between them than anything else. But as she looked at him, all her resentment washed away and she only felt sadness.

She had loved him once. And he had given her David, the light of her existence.

She kissed Jonathon gently on the forehead, and pushed herself up. Smashed cars and pieces of metal were scattered all around the intersection. A pool of blood had coloured some of the grass and pavement sickening red.

Sirens could be heard, coming closer. Taking in the situation, she assessed that here were at least five badly injured. Two or three were dead. And dozens of people seemed to have minor injuries.

She didn't even feel the nasty bruise on her forehead, despite the blood running down her cheek. There was simply too much emotional pain to feel the physical.

The ambulance pulled up, sirens blazing. She waved at it, and ran over as the driver jumped out. He looked pale, but composed, years of training to deal with emergency situations clearly paying off.

"We have five badly injured who need immediate medical assistance," she informed him, kneeling down to an old man, who seemed to only have minor injuries.

The ambulance worker was already moving forward, checking the first victim in his path.

"The hospitals are already beginning to crowd," he said hoarsely, "There's so many.."

His eyes flickered to the remains of the Harbour Bridge, and for a second he seemed to stagger with the effort of standing upright. Then he seemed to seize control of his emotions again.

"I'm Russell," he said, as he moved onto the next victim, his two colleagues already moving around the wrecked cars.

"I'm Rachel," she replied, but even as she spoke, her attention had shifted to the water again.

'Where are you Frank?' she thought. 'Please take care of my baby and yourself. Please..'

II

Groaning, Alex felt something warm roll down her face, and a few seconds later, gentle fingers brushing it off. She took a few seconds to find out how the rest of her body was doing. Her body ached, her head felt like someone had tried ripping her hair off.

And she was sitting on a very cold floor, her knees tucked in under her. Her upper body was leaning against something soft, and as she opened her eyes she found it to be Mick, gently wiping away blood from her cheek.

"Damn," she muttered, as the daze lifted from her brain and the previous events came flooding back. Pulling back a bit, she took in their surroundings.

They were still in the Opera House basement, and she could see the armed terrorists at the door. A cold wind seemed to drift through and grab hold of her spine. It hadn't been a terrible nightmare. It was all too real.

They were hostages.

All around her, people were huddled together, some having whispered conversations, some simply sitting and staring ahead.

Her gaze wandered back to Mick, who was looking at her intently. He had a nasty red bruise on his neck, as if someone had planted a foot on his throat. It was already starting to turn purple at the edges. Without thinking, she reached out to touch it and he winced.

"What the hell did you do?"

"Tried to protect your ass."

"Oh, bugger off, Mick!" she muttered angrily, suddenly feeling an urge to deck him. Well, not really him, just.. Someone.

"Kinda hard in this situation," he replied. She stared wildly at him for a second, then fell against his chest, her body shaking.

For a second he thought she was crying, then he realised she was shaking with the effort of not laughing. He had to suppress a chuckle of his own, resting his head against hers. But the laughter soon died in his throat, and he just held her, glancing up at the armed terrorists.

It didn't seem that funny anymore.

II

Jeff looked over the grim faces of the few remaining water police officers and felt a surge of pride through all the pain and grief. They were holding together. The worst had happened, and they were holding together.

Even Donna, though her eyes were red with cried and uncried tears.

"Sydney is under attack by terrorists," he began, uttering words he'd never thought he would hear except in movies. "Three or four bombs were placed on Harbour Bridge, and one on board the passing train. We don't know how they did it yet, but we do know the bridge was just a distraction."

A few angry hisses could be heard. He didn't really blame them. Blowing up Harbour Bridge as a distraction.. Mind-boggling.

"The real target was Sydney Opera House and the prime minister and US president. The Opera House is now under control of the terrorists, and it is assumed they have hostages."

He paused again, taking a deep breath. Now came the hard part, and no matter how much he swallowed, his mouth was as dry as a desert.

"A rescue operation has been launched. We will act as a communication central and give whatever assistance we can. The train.."

He took a deep breath.

"The train is thought to have contained about fifteen hundred passengers."

No one said anything, but quite a few bit into their bottom lip so hard all blood drained from it.

"At the present time, we have no idea about the number of survivors, but we do know there are some. There are some."

Donna let out a small squeak but bottled it up fairly quick. George took her hand and squeezed it reassuringly, even if he felt like running screaming out and throwing up himself.

"We can not establish contact with the Nemesis and the Harpy," Jeff continued. "The Harpy was caught under the falling debris. The Nemesis.. We don't know. Military forces have shut off the area around the Opera House. And.. Matt was found dead in the water."

The faces around him hardened even more, if it was possible.

"What about Mick and Alex?" Lance asked quietly.

"We don't know. They could be hostages inside the Opera House." The 'They could also be dead' wasn't spoken, but it hung in the air.

"Jack is in the Balmain area," George threw in, "The roads have been cut off, and without the Nemesis and the Harpy, he can't reach us."

"Tell him to stay put," Jeff ordered. "We don't need any more missing. Tommy and Emma.. Tommy managed to reach shore and is at the Sydney hospital. He's fine. Emma.."

Exhaling, he tried not to stagger.

"Emma is in critical condition."

Donna couldn't withhold the tears anymore, but they were silent, running down her face unhindered.

"We don't know about Gavin, Tayler and Helen." He tried not to think too hard about that. "Rachel seems to be helping some ambulance workers. We don't know about Frank."

So many 'we don't know.' So many possible losses. He had to stop to regain his breath, because his throat seemed to holding it back.

"Information is chaotic and scarce at this point. Our job will be to make sure that correct information is given to the boats out there. We will act as a rescue point. Our first priority is to save as many as we can. I know this will be asking a lot of you.."

He looked over the small gathering, wishing like hell he had Helen by his side. He'd never really thought about how much he depended on her. She was always there, a few steps behind or to the side, backing him up or fighting with him, but always there. The top could be lonely, he'd always felt that, but now without Helen.. He hadn't known lonely before now.

"I know you can do it," he said with as much confidence he could muster. They could do it. They were a wonderful bunch of people.

Question was, could he do it?

II

It went from completely black to completely white in a matter of seconds. Blinking, Helen tried to focus her vision. It was so white it was hard to look.

She was moving. It took a while to figure out that much because the ceiling was too white to focus on. It was almost comfortable, like a baby in a cradle being rocked back and forth. For a while she was content just to lie there, feeling the movements and watching the ceiling.

But her body felt strangely distant, and she had a nagging feeling there was something she was supposed to remember.

She could remember floating, feeling as light as air. Then something had pulled out.. Arms? Strong arms? Someone had breathed into her, and she had felt compelled to leave the floating even if she didn't really want to.

And then there had been overwhelming pain for a while, before she had shifted back into a silent darkness.

There had been water, she suddenly realised, and then it all came rushing back with seconds.

She jerked upwards, and nearly lost her breath as pain shot through her body. Her eyes felt like they would pop out.

The train. The bridge. The fall.

"Lie down," a gentle voice urged her, and a face came into view. It had to be medical personnel of some kind; she could see the tag that read "Jenny."

"Lie down," Jenny urged again.

"The redhead I was with, is she.. Is she..?" Helen muttered desperately, her mind suddenly filled with images of Tayler falling forwards as the train had plunged into the water.

"I don't know. Lie down, please."

Letting herself be guided back onto the stretcher, Helen tried to focus on her breathing and not think. If her mind had been too hazy before, it was too clear now, reliving every scene.

She saw the fall, heard the terrible, terrible screams and felt the impact of the water. She remembered waking up briefly, trying to swim through the water.

The water had been red.

And the shudders that went through her body had nothing to do with being cold.

II

"Where can we go then!" Russell was trying not to yell into the radio. "Concord is full, St Vincent is getting too many already.." He trailed off, exchanging a look with Rachel. They both tried not to think off how many people who were in hospital.

And how many who weren't.

"Balmain," came the static answer from the radio, and Russell didn't waste any time getting the ambulance going. If they waited too long, Balmain might be full too.

Rachel glanced behind her, where Jason and Erica, the two other ambulance personal were desperately trying to revive an old lady, who had suffered a heart attack at the sight of the bridge falling.

So much death.

At least keeping herself useful and occupied kept her from worrying too much. Just barely. Frank and David were haunting most of her mind, but luckily, not the part that kept her going.

She couldn't help them now. Too much chaos, and she didn't even know where the hell they were. Off sailing somewhere, hopefully far, far away from the bridge.. from where the bridge had been.

It pained her to keep correcting herself. The Harbour Bridge was no more, and yet, it was hard to believe it was gone even when looking at the remains. It simply didn't seem possible that it could be gone like that, dragging people with it to its death.

"They said there were fifteen hundred people on the train," Russell said in a low voice. "My sister.. She takes that train every morning."

Rachel met his eyes, and saw the terrible, terrible worry and knew it was echoed in her own. She could offer him nothing for comfort. Logically, she knew a fall like that would be devastating. Still, there had to be survivors.. Because fifteen hundred people dead were unimaginable.

The ambulance sped away with howling sirens, just as Erica and Jason realised the old lady was dead and there was nothing more thy could do.

Just one of many, many to come.

II

Tommy tried not to pound his head against the wall in an effort not to go mad. Everywhere he looked, there was someone in pain, someone who screamed, and even a few dead. The staff simply didn't have time to remove the dead. There were too many who might be saved to focus on.

And Emma was still alive. That, at least was something. He had no idea where she was, but she had been breathing when they had entered the hospital, and he clung to that like a drowning man to a floatation device.

And he tried to not think about Gavin.

Many other hospitals were taking in survivors, so Gavin could be somewhere else. He could be just fine.

He could also be dead.

"I can't see!" a young boy screamed as he was wheeled in, and Tommy suddenly had to lean against the wall not to fall. The boy had been maybe three years old. Three years old!

"God.." he muttered. Who the hell would do something like that?

Three years old..

And then his eyes fell on the small bundle on one stretcher and he realised it had to be a baby. A dead baby. Fifteen hundred dead was one thing, but a baby.. A baby!

He wasn't sure how long he stared at it, but in the corner of his eye he suddenly noticed the doctor that had taken Emma and he ran down the hallway, half scared, half hopeful.

'Please, please, please, please..' his mind muttered.

"Doctor!"

The doctor barely glanced up, examining a man who had a metal bar pierced through his foot.

"Yes?"

"The blonde I came in with.. She.."

"She's stable after surgery, that's all I can tell you."

The doctor finally looked up and met Tommy's eyes. There was strain in them, the kind of strain you get when you are surrounded by too much death and the lives that are saved depend on you, because you are the doctor, and yet you can never save them all. No matter how much you want to.

"She was lucky. Most weren't."

Tommy didn't know what to reply, so he just walked away slowly, staring down the halls. Everywhere, more and more people. Screaming, cursing, dying. How many were there? How much was fifteen hundred people?

Glancing down the hall, Tommy realised it was a lot. When you passed that may people on the street, it didn't seem that many, but dying..

Fifteen hundred people were a small billion.

He looked up to see another stretcher being left in the hallway, another dead. At first his mind refused to recognise who it was. Maybe he had seen so much death already and his mind was trying to protect him.

That's why he stared at the dead body for several minutes before he realised it was Gavin.

It wasn't that it was hard to see, it was just the fact that the part of his mind that realised the body was Gavin didn't connect with the part of his mind that was actually thinking.

Suddenly the two parts came together, and Tommy felt his eyes water.

It was Gavin. There was no blood on his body, but his face had the look of terror on it, as if he had been killed the moment the bridge had fallen on them. Maybe he had, Tommy didn't know.

He just knew that his heart seemed to stop too, and it hurt to breathe.

He had saved Emma, and Gavin was dead.

Finally he couldn't stand upright anymore, so Tommy slid down against the wall until he was sitting down. His mind had already contacted his guilt, and the two were having a party, throwing accusation at him.

Emma was alive and Gavin was not.

Emma was alive.

Gavin was not.

Which was more important? He tried desperately to convince himself that he had done enough, that he had saved Emma and that was all that mattered. Focus on life.

But in a hallway of death, that was hard.


	3. Chapter Three

Chapter Three

It was quiet around the Sydney Harbour Bridge, the sort of quiet that wasn't really quiet at all, but rather a long wait until something would explode.

The nearby area had been shut off, troops guarding and waiting.

Waiting.

Inside the Opera House, there wasn't much to do but wait either. Leaning against Mick, Alex tried to breathe normally. It was surprisingly hard. She was also very aware that Mick had an arm half way around her waist, resting on her hip.

That was hardly the thing to concentrate on now, but then again, it stopped her from thinking about.. Well, everything else.

Taking his hand and slowly stroking his fingers, she decided if this was it, she might as well enjoy herself as much as she could. Mick seemed to be like-minded.

Pulling her in closer, he allowed himself to take in the smell of her and not think about the horrors outside. She was warm and seemed to fit so perfectly in his embrace. He let a finger run down from her jaw, the side of her neck, her shoulder, her arm and all the way to her fingertip.

"Mick?"

"Hmm.."

"Did you kiss me last night?"

"Yeah."

"Ah."

The door slammed open, and they both looked up to see what Mick had thought to be the leader of the terrorists march in with a speakerphone. Everyone fell quiet, even the few children in the room without being hushed. The man radiated intensity and conviction, Mick observed. Two very dangerous qualities when focused on the wrong issue.

"Ladies and gentlemen, you are under control of the American Liberation Movement. We have no wish to harm you; if you remain calm no one will get hurt. We are here to liberate you.."

"God.." Mick muttered in Alex's ear, his hot breath tickling her skin.

The man plunged on. "The government in America is tyrannising us and taking away our constitutional rights. We are fighting a war, a war that will decide the freedom of all of humanity. In this war, we have to take whatever steps necessary to win."

"You blew up the bridge!" a woman suddenly screamed, and stood up. "You bastards!"

She took a step towards the man, and even before anyone could blink, a gunshot echoed through the room. The woman got s surprised look on her face, then slowly keeled over.

There were a few stifled cries, but no one dared move. A few mothers made their kids look away, and the terrorist leader just kicked the body out of the way, getting blood on his boots. Alex leaned her face against Mick's chest, biting her lip so hard she nearly drew blood.

"We do not wish to harm you," the man was idiotically enough still saying, "but anyone who tries to hinder us will be treated like enemy soldiers. The government is the enemy, and if you act on behalf of them, you are the enemy. We are here to open your eyes, to make you see the light. To prove to you I am sincere.."

The prime minister was pushed forward and onto his feet, looking haggard and nothing like the leader of the nation.

"This is your enemy. I will liberate you." The terrorist leader lifted his gun, and the prime minister paled.

"Shit.." Alex muttered, closing her eyes as several gunshots echoed through the room. Mick's body tensed, and she knew what had happened. There were a few shocked gasps around her, but no one cried out.

She glanced up to see the pool of blood, and the slumped body of Prime Minister John Howard. Late prime minister now.

It took a considerable amount of willpower not to break into tears. She pushed herself tighter against Mick, wishing like hell she would wake up soon.

"I know," Mick whispered, gently stroking her back.

"Throw his body out to show we are serious and will kill more hostages if they attack," the leader ordered, and stepped out. Hateful eyes followed him, but no one moved.

There had been too much death already.

II

Rachel stood in the hallway and tried not to panic. It was hard, seeing how there was no good news to get anywhere. There were no sightings of the Footloose, and everywhere there was so much death she felt like she was sinking into it. Like quicksand, the more she struggled, the harder the pull was.

Leaning against the wall, she waited for Russell to return. He had promised to find out if Frank and David were at any of the hospitals. She tried not to hope too much. They might not even be in need of medical assistance. In fact, it was almost better if Russell couldn't find them..

Almost better.

He came walking out, and she immediately knew something was amiss.

"Russell?"

"I.. I checked the records. She's dead. Maya, I mean. She was on the train."

He looked up at her, eyes so wide she could see all of herself in them.

"She's.." He staggered, then straightened. "Apparently a Frank Holloway did come in to this hospital with a young boy, just with minor injuries."

She managed not to cry out in joy. It simply wasn't appropriate, given the situation. But her heart skipped a beat, cheering widely.

"I'm so sorry, Russell."

He managed a weak smile. "I know. Go to your son. He's on the second floor."

"Thank you," she whispered, and ran so fast her feet barely touched the floor. They were alive. They were both alive.

She took the stairs two steps at the time because the elevator was too slow. Finally, she slammed open the door to the second floor. Glancing around, her eyes suddenly fell on a familiar face pacing just a few metres away.

"FRANK!" she screamed, not caring about anything except the fact that he was alive. He was alive. There could have been two Frank Holloways in Sydney after all, but seeing him she finally knew for sure. He was alive.

He turned, and as his glance fell on her, there was a sunrise on his face. She could see him mouthing her name, as he took a step toward her. And another. And another.

She stood perfectly still as he came running towards her, just drinking in the sight of him. She flung her arms around him as he swept her into an embrace, holding her so close it hurt. But neither let go, clinging onto each other like it was a matter of life and death.

Maybe it was.

"David is fine too," he whispered. "Just swallowed some water."

"Thank you, thank you," she whispered back, not quite sure what she was thanking him for. Maybe for saving David, or maybe just for being alive.

"I love you," he simply replied, realising if he ever was gonna say it, now was the time. He had never been so scared in his life as when he had waited for some scrap of news telling that she was okay, that she wasn't among the many, many dead. He wasn't sure what he'd done if she hadn't been all right.

"Me too," she whispered so quietly he barely heard it, not trusting herself enough to actually say the three words. She hoped he knew she meant it anyway.

She didn't see the completely ridiculous grin on his face.

"David is just down the hall," he said as he finally lessened his grip on her. "Come on."

She followed him down the hall, her legs nearly buckling under her until she finally saw David, sitting on the bed and being treated by a nurse. He lit up as soon as he saw her.

"Mum!"

"David," she whispered, relief and grief mixing as she realised she had to tell her son his father was dead.

Frank's hand took hold of hers reassuringly, sensing that something was wrong even before she said anything.

II

"Jeff!" George came running in, not even realising he was using the first name of his superior. Catastrophes had a tendency to put you on first name basis with even the president.

"Helen is at Sydney Hospital. She's not in critical condition, but that's about all I know."

Exhaling, Jeff muttered a quite thanks to a God he had never quite believed in.

"Frank's fine too, apparently."

Jeff sensed the huge but, and realised it would not be a good but. He tried to brace himself, even though he knew it was pointless. Bad news always hit you hard, no matter how well you braced yourself.

"Gavin and Tayler are dead. They're on the official casualty list the hospitals are releasing. Still no word on Mick and Alex."

"Thank you, George," Jeff said quietly, and watched the younger man walk out. George was upset as the rest of them, but he didn't know them all. He couldn't begin to understand the loss.

Jeff did. And before he realised what was happening, big tears were forming in his eyes. He tried wiping them away with his sleeve, but new tears kept coming and coming until he finally gave up and let them fall.

Strangely enough, he felt slightly better, letting the emotions flow and not keeping them locked up for once.

But there was still work to be done, so he wiped away the last tears and pushed away the emotions again.

Sometimes he wondered if he was getting too good at that.

II

Helen stared at the well-meaning nurse, and fought an urge to strangle the young woman. The question "how are we feeling?" was probably meant in the best intention, but it didn't stop Helen from wanting to wring the girl's neck.

Luckily, a doctor called out for the nurse just then, and she disappeared, leaving Helen quietly fuming.

Idiots. What did they know? What could they possibly know about what it was like knowing the one person in your family who could still stand you, was gone?

She had heard the nurses whisper about fourteen hundred dead, and so far, seventy-six survivors. Seventy-six. And she was one of them.

Why her? Why had Tayler died and not her? It was almost better if it had been her to die, Helen thought. Tayler was young and full of life, and fairly happy with her new boyfriend, Mitch something.

Tayler had still had a shot at happiness.

And Helen had never felt so old. Numbness seemed to have taken over her body, as she lay motionless on the bed, staring at the ceiling. There didn't seem to be any point in moving. It didn't lessen the pain.

Somewhere in her chest her heart had to be beating since she was alive, but she couldn't feel it. She couldn't even feel her breath any more.

God, Tayler..

Closing her eyes, Helen could see the faces of all those in the train, all of them screaming in terror as they had fallen, fallen, fallen..

Strangely enough, it felt like she was still falling, and when she finally hit the ground, it would kill her.

II

The news reported that the American Liberation Movement was behind the bombs, and that they had the US president hostage, along with a hundred or so other hostages.

John Howard was dead.

People didn't react with as much shock as the news would indicate. Too much had happened, and people were trying desperately to process what had already happened before taking on even more.

So the news was received fairly calmly. Another name to the death toll, that was all.

Jack had managed to get as far Circular Quay and the last military blockade between him and the Opera House when he heard on the portable radio he had nicked, that Prime Minister Howard had been killed and the terrorists were threatening to kill the rest of the hostages too. Donna had slipped earlier and mentioned Alex and Mick might be trapped there.

Damned if he was going to stand and wait like some idiot, like bloody Jeff wanted him to do. He had to do something, otherwise Jack was sure he would go stark raving mad.

There was nothing worse than just waiting.

And if he concentrated on Mick and Alex, he avoided thinking about Tayler and Gavin and Matt, and possibly Emma and Helen, and the fact that he couldn't reach Sophie and..

"You can't enter here," one of the soldiers said as he approached the roadblock.

"Sydney water police," Jack replied, holding out his badge. The soldier didn't look too impressed.

"This is land."

"Two of my colleagues are in there," Jack said and indicated the Opera House. Bloody ugly tourist magnet. Yet, as Jack looked at it, and noticed the areas that had been slightly burned in the blast, he felt a surge of anger.

It may be an ugly tourist magnet, but it was Sydney's ugly tourist magnet. If anyone was gonna blast it, it should be them, not some bloody Americans who wanted to make a point that had nothing to do with Australia in the first place.

"Sorry, sir," the soldier replied in a voice that suggested he wasn't sorry at all.

Glancing towards the shut off area, Jack noticed a few shadows moving along the roof.

"You're going to bloody storm it!"

"Sir, step back," the soldier warned, but both snapped out of their staring contest as sounds of gunfire ripped through the tense silence.

II

The air inside the Opera House seemed to have become heavier, or maybe it was just harder to breathe. Huddled together, people waited and waited and waited, until ever second held a small eternity.

There wasn't like there was much else to do.

Alex occupied her time indulging in some rather juicy fantasies. It kept her mind off the more dire thoughts and with Mick's warm body so close to hers; it was quite easy to project herself elsewhere. Like on a warm, sandy beach, hot sun on her face, warm hands caressing her back..

"Alex?" Mick whispered suddenly, tearing her away from the daydream. "If that one guy by the door was distracted, it would be possible to turn the light switch and.."

"What you wanna play secret agent, Reilly, Mick Reilly?" she asked angrily. "Get yourself killed?"

"I have to do something!" he snapped back, then noticing one of the terrorists giving him a look. He lowered his voice and leaned in closer to Alex, so close their cheeks touched.

"No, you bloody don't!" she whispered fiercely, brushing a thumb against his lips when he tried to protest. "If you die, I will never forgive you."

"I know," he said softly. And then the lights flickered off, and a lot of things happened at once.

Hurried steps could be heard, and doors slamming open. Gunfire erupted, and Mick pushed Alex to the floor, even knowing she wasn't going to be very happy about his protective 'masculinity crap', as she would probably phrase it. He couldn't stop himself though, it was a purely instinctively act.

There were screams around them, a few cut short as bullets slammed into people. Alex opened her mouth to make a sound as well, and realising the terrorists could very well be firing at the sounds they heard, Mick did the only thing he knew would shut her up when his arms were locked under her body.

He glued his lips to hers. It wasn't a kiss as much, more a lingering touch of lips to lips. Still, it worked. She turned very silent, even her breathing seemed to slow. It was hard to breathe, even painful. Her eyes were beginning to water, and she realised some kind of gas had been dropped into the room.

Mick had realised the same, and rolled off her. The gunfire had died away, and faint coughing could be heard.

'Shit!' Mick thought, and grabbing Alex's hand, they began crawling towards the door. All around them, people seemed to be doing the same.

Up the stairs and into the brilliant sunlight and the chaos.

II

The darkness began to unravel as Emma slowly opened her eyes and winced. She was quite sure she was supposed to be in pain, but her body felt too distant for the pain to be a bother.

"Em.." Tommy's face drifted into view, looking so pained it was heartbreaking to watch.

"What happened?" she managed to mutter, her voice sounding as far away as her body felt. She was definitely on drugs of some kind. They had to be heavy, which told her she had to have been messed up rather badly.

"The bridge fell," he replied quietly, stroking her cheek. "You were hit by debris."

"Gavin?" The look on Tommy's face gave her the answer even before he spoke.

"He.. He drowned. I'm sorry."

She wanted to cry, but her eyes didn't seem to respond. They were so dry it was hard to blink. She did remember something falling at them, cutting into her flesh, and then pain, pain like she had never felt before.

"How.. How many?"

Tommy rubbed his temples, shaking his head slightly. God, she would do anything to take the sadness away from his features. He looked lost, like he had when Rhonda had died. He was radiating the same kind of intense guilt and sadness mixed together as he had then, but many times worse.

"They estimate about fourteen hundred dead."

The number meant nothing to her. It was simply too large. She tried to focus on it, but her mind kept on wanting to drift away and it was hard to stop it.

"I'm so sorry," Tommy said again. "I could have.. I.." His voice faltered, and he leaned his head against her hand, as if trying to draw strength from the feeling of his skin against hers.

"Tommy," she whispered helplessly, and because she didn't know what else to say, she kept repeating his name. Putting her other hand on his head, she combed his hair; being the only thing she had energy to do.

Quiet sobs escaped Tommy, and she felt her hand become wet with tears. They stayed like that for a small eternity, him crying and her wishing there was something she could do, something she could say...

And eventually, her tears came too.

II

Coughing madly, Mick stumbled up the last step and practically dragged Alex with him. They collapsed onto the pavement, Mick throwing a quick look towards the bridge area, just to make sure he hadn't dreamed it all.

No, the bridge still wasn't there.

Alex landed on top of him, and they both stared at the sky for a few seconds, feeling too wired to do much of anything.

"Shit, shit, shit," Mick muttered, adrenaline pumping through his veins. They were outside, and they were alive (for the time being), and he felt like he was going to burst.. People were still coming crawling out, and as he threw a quick glance around, he saw that armed people were standing around.

Australian military.

"We made it," Alex whispered, the sudden relief of being alive washing away the horror, grief and strain of what had happened.

"I know."

And then she kissed him, because if she didn't do something, she was going to explode. He seemed startled, but it only took a few seconds until his lips were eagerly parting hers, kissing her deeply and possessively. Her hands wandered inside his shirt, to feel his heartbeats against her palm.

Just how long they were engaged in the tongue-groping fest, Mick wasn't sure, but suddenly he became aware that a shadow was falling over them. He glanced up at the heavily armed soldier – who looked slightly bemused.

"Our medical personnel want to have a look at you," the soldier informed them, and they scrambled to their feet, noticing that the terrorists were being rounded up a few metres away.

"Um, yeah," Alex muttered, all the adrenaline leaving her and she just felt dead tired. Mick put an arm around her shoulder as they walked unsteadily towards the other surviving hostages.

It was over then.

And yet, she had a feeling, it had barely begun.

II

Frank walked quietly into the room, taking in the scene before him. David asleep on his mother's lap, tears streaking his face, and Rachel must have cried too, judging from the slight swelling around her eyes.

"I found you some coffee," Frank greeted her, and she gave him a tired smile that was really more of a grimace.

"Thanks."

"How's he taking it?" he asked as he handed her the mug, and she swallowed the content in one sip.

"How do you think?" she replied, but without any venom.

"Sorry."

"Don't be, Frank.David told me you had swam both of you to shore after the Footloose went down. You saved his life."

Frank shrugged as modestly as he could.

"I think you're his new hero."

Chuckling softly, he sat down on the bed next to her, taking her hand.

"How are you doing?"

For a second she considered answering "fine", but the look of pure concern on his face made her change her mind. It seemed idiotic to pretend everything was fine when it was obvious it wasn't.

"Not very good. I don't even know who to begin to grieve for. Jonathon, Tayler, Gavin.." her voice cracked, and she looked down at her son, shifting slightly in his sleep.

"I know what you mean," he said softly. "They say Helen and Emma will make it though."

"And you and David are fine," she whispered, leaning her forehead against his.

"Oh yeah. I'm not letting you off the hook to help clean my house that easily."

She couldn't help it, she had to let out a small laughter. "You have the worst sense of humour, Frank."

"Hey, you laughed, not I."

He waited for a comeback, but it didn't come. Sadness fell over her face again, and her hand began stroking David's hair. He was going to make them both smile again, Frank vowed. He knew he had no right to claim David as his own, but the boy was so much like Rachel.. How could anyone not be charmed by the kid?

In time, maybe they could be a family. The thought warmed his heart, even in a hell day like this.

"We'll be fine, Rach."

Rachel wasn't so sure. Could Sydney ever be fine again after this? A gaping wound had been left in the middle of the city, literally.

Harbour Bridge was no more.

II

Ambulances began to speed away, as the crowd began together around the no longer shut off Opera House. TV crews were already there, and what had to be hundreds of reporters.

'Like vultures swarming a dead body,' Jack thought irritably.

Pushing through the crowd, he tried to spot Mick and Alex among the people being medical examined. A few dead bodies were being covered up, and some were being loaded into ambulances. He couldn't spot them immediately, which made his worry grow stronger. They had to be there, they had to be..

He waved his badge impatiently at some soldiers who tried to object as he moved through, and this time, it seemed to work. Finally, he reached the area where medical personnel where examining the lightly injured no-longer hostages.

He spotted them almost at once. Even with an ambulance worker checking out a head wound on Alex, their bodies were glued together. Jack told himself there was no reason to be jealous. They had just been through a horrible experience together. That had to give them a bond.

And suddenly he had to stop and catch his breath. He and Rachel had had been through a horrible experience, together, but it had tore them apart. Why? Why did she have to run to bloody Frank Holloway?

What did Frank have that he didn't?

'Focus, Jack,' his mind instructed him.

"Jack!" Alex exclaimed, suddenly spotting him. He walked over, wincing at the sight of the nasty wound on the side of her head. Mick looked a little better, but not by much.

"How is Matt?"

"He's dead," Jack replied as gently as he could. "We've lost Gavin and Tayler too."

"God," Mick muttered, taking Alex's hand without thinking. "How many on the bridge?"

"They think it's about fourteen hundred."

The statement hung in the air a while, all three trying to wrap their minds around the number. Alex closed her eyes, suddenly worried that some of her family could have.. No, they didn't normally take the train. Normally.

That was a hell of a dangerous 'normally'.

God, she had to call so many people and make sure they were all right.

"Are you two okay?" Jack finally asked.

"What do you think, Jack?" Mick snapped, more harshly than intended. He was just so bloody tired, and the day wasn't even finished. Jack could go hang himself right now.

"Just asking," Jack held out his hands, feeling his own anger rise.

"Oh, shut up both of you," Alex said irritably, wincing as a bandage was being applied to her head. "This is not the time to play 'mark the territory'."

To her amazement, both shut up. The glances they sent each other weren't very promising though.

"Emma and Helen are in hospital," Jack muttered in a low voice. "I can't get in touch with Sophie."

"I'm sure she's fine," Alex replied, but she felt less than sure herself. She had been sure it would be just another Tuesday, and look where that assumption had brought her.

And the day wasn't even bloody over yet.

II

"Hostage crisis over!" the TV screamed, just as Jeff poked his head into the eating area. Half the crew was watching the broadcast, and before he could tell them there were more constructive things they could do with their time, he noticed the footage.

The Opera House.

"Just a few minutes ago, the dramatic situation of the Opera House hostage situation was resolved when SAS troops stormed the building, releasing tear gas.."

Channel Nine had obviously had a chopper flying over, zooming in on the people coming running out of the Opera House. And there was Alex and Mick, looking quite haggard, but most definitely alive.

A small cheer broke out in the room, and Jeff felt his own lips curve into a smile. They were alive, and obviously not too badly hurt. And for a brief moment, it made up for all those dead.

Just for a too brief moment.

The cheering turned into a low whistle as Mick and Alex were quite obviously not noticing the cameras.

"The hostages were relived to be free," the TV commentator announced, "but condition is still critical for US President Bush, who suffered several gunshots as the SAS stormed the Opera House.."

"It's over then," George muttered.

"No," Jeff replied quietly, mostly to himself. He thought of fourteen hundred people dead, a bridge no longer there, Gavin, Matt and Tayler no longer among them, Emma and Helen possibly scarred for life, hell, they were all probably scarred for life. And then there was a dead prime minister and possibly a dead president.

Sydney would be in chaos, traffic would be hell, the United States and Australia would fight over who got to prosecute the terrorists and there would be so many funerals people wouldn't have time to go to work for a while.

No, it was definitely not over. Now came the hard part, rebuilding, grieving and eventually, moving on.

If they could.


	4. Chapter Four

Chapter Four

Daylight began to dwindle and twilight set in, as the day went to battle with the evening and lost. The sun vanished below the horizon to create a new day somewhere else. And slowly, the stars would become visible, their never-failing light a distant reminder that Earth was not alone.

It just felt that way because the distances were so great.

The moon smiled sadly, hanging its face in grief as Sydney prepared to face the nightmares at night. The only comfort was they could not possibly be worse than the ones the day had brought.

The worst had already happened.

The official death toll had been counted to fifteen hundred and eleven, fourteen hundred and sixty-three on the train. Eighty-four on board the train had survived. There had also been several car crashes, and many dead police officers. Thousands had got light injuries of some kind.

Fifteen hundred and eleven was a staggering number, and if that wasn't enough, there was a dead prime minister as well, and now the US president had died too, in the hospital. The media had so much to cover they had to bring in journalism students to cover some angles. There was nothing but news on the telly, all channels screaming headlines.

The hospitals were still overcrowded, so after a through full check, both Alex and Mick were released and able to go home.

But the aspect of being alone was not too comforting.

Walking out into the crisp, clear air, they stood in the parking lot a while, both not quite sure what to say. The parking lot was crowded, people rushing in and out of the hospital, some crying, some relieved.

"So.." Mick said, searching for anything to say.

"Yeah."

"Headache not too bad?"

"No, they gave me some painkillers. How's your throat?"

"Sore."

Silence ensued again.

"I should probably get a cab home."

"Traffic will be chaos," he replied, trying to sound as light as he could.

"Yeah.." She hesitated, throwing a glance at him. He looked so tired, so utterly exhausted it was a miracle he was standing. It was a miracle she was standing. She wanted to fall into bed and just sleep, no dreams, no feelings. Just sleep.

The thing was, she didn't want to sleep alone.

"Michael?" He glanced up at her. "My place?"

The look he sent her was answer enough.

II

His steps echoed through the hallway, as Jeff walked as silently as he could towards Helen's room. The hospital seemed silent, and not in a good way. It was a strained silence, clinging to the walls like mould.

He'd seen pictures from it on the telly earlier in the day, when the hallway had been full of people screaming, dying. The screams were still in the walls, and if you listened real hard, you could almost hear them.

Jeff shrugged off any thoughts like that, finally reaching the room where Helen was. He took a deep breath before entering, not sure what to expect.

"Hey Helen."

She didn't acknowledge him, just stared distantly at the ceiling. The shock had caused her to be almost catatonic, the doctors had reported. Traumatised. How long it would last, they weren't sure.

But she was alive.

He walked over to the bed, and took her motionless hand in his. It felt so cold it was hard to believe she was really alive.

He opened his mouth several times, but closed it without saying anything. He had no idea what to say. It all sounded so trivial, so..

"Mick and Alex are fine," he said after a while. "They sent their regards. Everyone in the Station did."

The only movement he could detect was her chest that rose and fell as she breathed. There were several nasty bruises along her arms, one had been broken and was bandaged. He could only imagine what damage had been done to her legs.

Just how she had survived, was a bit of a miracle.

"Hang in there." God, he sounded like an idiot. He had a nagging feeling he could get her to respond, if he just knew the right thing to say.

But what the hell was the right thing to say?

II

David was asleep in Rachel's arms as they walked into Rachel's house, Frank holding the door open. The boy had been given a light sedative, but there wasn't much physically wrong with him.

"I'm going to put him to bed," Rachel muttered, walking towards the stairs. Frank just nodded, walking into the kitchen and turning the lights on.

He turned the radio on low, listening to the exited voices practically screaming about terrorists and the fact that George Bush was dead too now.

Frank didn't care that much, his mind was more on the fifteen hundred people other people. Gavin.. Sheesh.

Rubbing his temples, he wished desperately for a beer. Of course there wasn't any, and it was probably just as well. It wouldn't do him much good anyway.

He could feel Rachel looking at him, and surely, he turned to find her standing in the doorway.

"You'll stay tonight?"

"Of course," he replied softly, walking over. "I'll stay as long as you want."

"I called dad," she muttered. "He's fine, I told him I would be by in the morning. I also called Jonathon's mum. She cried, and she accused me of being happy he was dead."

"She doesn't know you very well," Frank rubbed her arm, fighting an urge to kick the lady's ass. It wasn't a nice thing to do to someone grieving, but it wasn't a nice thing to say to Rachel either.

She was the most caring woman he knew.

"God, what a day," she let out a sigh, feeling too tired to think about it all. Tomorrow they would wake up to the reality of it, tonight, in the dark, she wanted to think of something else.

She slipped into Frank's embrace, resting her head against his chest, listening to his heartbeats. It occurred to her she could stay like this forever, tomorrow never coming.

He kissed her forehead, a long, warm lingering touch, and she glanced up at him.

"That's all ya gonna kiss, Francis?"

"No," he whispered, kissing her temples, her cheek, her jaw, her lower lip, her nose and, as she closed her eyes, her eyelids.

God, it felt good. And it felt simple. She had used to think getting together with Frank would be so complicated, but it hadn't been. Maybe because there hadn't been work to interrupt.

And maybe because after Jack anything would look simple in comparison.

She opened her eyes again, glancing into his deep blue eyes.

"You're not second choice," she whispered, and he seemed to understand. Putting his hand on her chin, he tilted her head upwards and kissed her gently.

Her breath quickened, and she flung her arms around his neck. His own hands had already sneaked inside her shirt, noticing to his delight that she was not wearing a bra. She shivered as he traced the underline of one breast with his fingers.

"David could wake up," he muttered, breaking of the kiss to assault her neck instead.

"That's what locks are for, Frank."

He chuckled, then lifted her feet of the floor and carried her towards the stairs.

"If you drop me, you're a dead man."

"Well, you're bloody heavy, Goldstein," he complained, getting a thwart on the arm in reply. He pretended to loose balance half way up the stairs, knowing it secretly amused her he was so.. Jerkish.

As soon as they entered the bedroom, he dropped her on her ass on the bed.

"Hey!"

He just grinned, closing the door behind them and lunging onto the bed.

"Eager are we?" she couldn't help but grin herself, but it quickly turned serious as he wrapped a leg around her, their bodies glued together. He was careful not to touch her bruises, which were beginning to turn purple and looked so nasty he winced.

Lifting her arms, she let him lift her shirt off, shivering as her skin were exposed. The room was cold, but Frank's hands were warm. It didn't take him long to set her whole body aflame.

And then she let herself not think, only feel. There were no tomorrow, no today, just a brief moment of escape from time.

Outside, the wind lifted and stirred through the leaves as quietly as it could, as if trying not to disturb.

II

At last he had managed to get to where Sophie was staying. Jack still hadn't been able to reach her by phone, and quite frankly, panic was starting to rise in him. He knocked on the door, waiting impatiently for an answer. There was none.

He knocked on the door again, heart pounding. What if she..

"Sophie!"

And finally, there were steps heard from inside, and the door was ripped open.

"Jack."

He nearly staggered in relief. She was fine, and despite dark circles under her eyes, she looked beautiful. He just stared at her for a while, then, to his surprise, she fell into his arms. He held her gently, feeling his own heart finally settle into a normal pace. He wasn't sure what he would have done if he had lost her too.

"Phone line went dead," she whispered, "I was afraid.."

And despite the nightmare of the whole day, Jack Christey smiled. She had been afraid. She had cared.

That, at least, was something.

II

George walked into the hospital room so softly neither of two inhabitants looked up at first. Tommy was sitting in a chair beside Emma's bed, clinging to her hand. The two seemed to be having a silent conversation, and for a moment, George wondered if he really should interrupt.

But then Emma spotted him, and he really didn't have any choice but to walk over to them.

"George," she said, and he gave her a smile. He was truly happy she was alive, not just because she was a colleague, but well, because she was who she was.

"Hey Emma. How are you feeling?" Okay, better not sound quite so strained cheerful, he decided.

God, he'd known her a few days and he was already being a dork.

"I've had better days," she grimaced, just as Tommy got up irritably.

"I'll be back," he muttered, and exited the room, brushing past George without any comment.

"What's eating him?" George asked, taking the now vacant seat next to her.

"Gavin," she replied softly, feeling a surge of tears assault her again. She blinked them hurriedly away.

"I didn't really know him."

"He was a bit of a dork," she smiled fondly. "God, he is.." She caught herself using the present tense, and for a second she couldn't breathe again. Her vision went blurry. Then the feeling passed, and she managed to steady her vision too.

"Eva and the baby. It's not fair. He shouldn't be dead. It had been better if it had been me."

"Don't say that," George said forcefully.

In the hallway, Tommy heard. 'It had been better if it had been me.' God.. It was his fault she felt like that, his fault she had suffered. All of it, his damn fault. He leaned against the wall, steadying his breath.

She was alive, and he was going to look after her. He had to focus on that. He would make it all right, somehow.

II

The lights of the city seemed dimmer than usual, almost like shining too brightly would intrude on the grief. Traffic was strangely non-existent and in the Harbour, rescue crews were still fishing bodies out of the water.

It wasn't exactly an average Tuesday night.

Alex's house was dark, and she didn't bother turning on many lights as she walked in, Mick in tow. They had said very little on the way over, but their hands had kept on touching.

"Want some coffee?" she asked nervously, walking into the kitchen. He followed her, she could feel his breath on the back of her neck.

"No," he replied hoarsely, turning her around to face him. "No, I don't want coffee."

She looked up at him, and felt her skin being to tickle. He was practically undressing her with his eyes, his gaze wandering from her neckline, over her breasts (being a true man he took a break there), then further down to her abdomen, down her legs and all the way to her toes. Then he lifted his gaze to her face.

Her lips were slightly parted, and he remembered just how soft they were. Unable to resist temptation, he leaned forward and she let out a sigh just as their lips met.

His hands moved to her hips, pulling her so close he could feel her breasts against his chest. He kissed her teasingly at first, brushing his lips against hers, then pulling back a second, before repeating the touch. She let out a frustrated groan, and pulled his head down to nearly crush his mouth against hers.

The new pace was frantic, the kiss deep and hard. She eased his jacket off his shoulders, letting it fall to the floor. It wasn't enough. She wanted to feel skin against skin, and fast.

Mick too, seemed rather impatient, his hands wandering to her back and struggling to unhook her bra. It took a few seconds before he managed, and she could barely suppress a giggle. She could feel his lips curved into a smile against hers.

God, it felt good to have something to smile about.

Without breaking the kiss off, she led him towards the bedroom. They made it halfway there, before he pushed her up against the wall and pulled her shirt off. He lowered his head to her breasts, and she couldn't withhold a moan.

Her body arched against his as he continued the sweet torture.

"Mick..!"

As long as she said his name like that, he reckoned he would be the happiest man in Australia.

II

Sophie had fallen asleep on his lap, and despite his feet being asleep, Jack didn't dare move in fear he might make her wake up. She needed her sleep, a brief escape from reality.

One of her best friends had been on the train.

Pushing away a few strands of hair from her face, he felt a surge of happiness. They were bonding. As horrible as this tragedy was, they were bonding. She had confided in him, and even cried a bit on his shoulder.

All those years he had been – well, unaware of her existence - had been a bit of an abyss in their relationship, and he had never been sure if they could overcome it. He still wasn't sure, but he felt closer to her than he had.. Well, ever.

She shifted a bit in her sleep and he managed to stretch his left leg somewhat, and it tingled as the feeling returned to it. It wasn't very comfortable position, but he would stay until she woke up. He hadn't been there before, but he was here now.

He smiled gently in the darkness. She would have to kick him out to get rid of him now. His smile faded as he remembered she had half of his genes and wouldn't be beyond kicking him out.

His genes. His daughter. When he died, she would live on. The way Rachel had looked at her son so many times suddenly made very much sense.

His Sophie.

And he smiled again.

II

Emma finally drifted into a painless sleep, the nurse having administrated some sedatives. She looked almost peaceful, like an angel, and George couldn't resist kissing her gently on the forehead as he got up to leave.

When he turned, Tommy was standing in the doorway with an unreadable expression.

"Hey mate."

Tommy didn't respond, and it suddenly occurred to George just how large the guy was. He could just about flatten anyone he decided to. Not a very comforting thought.

"She's asleep," George continued, but he still got no answers. It was beginning to make him rather uneasy, and he decided it was probably just best to leave. But as he walked past Tommy, a hand shot out and blocked his path.

"If you hurt her.." Tommy said in a low voice.

"Same goes for you," George snapped back, feeling rather annoyed and a little bit alarmed.

The two men stared at each other for a long time, after a few minutes Tommy let his arm fall and George walked out.

The room was silent for a while, only Emma's steady breathing and the instruments verifying that she was alive could be heard. Finally Tommy let out a sigh and walked over to Emma's bed. He had an urge to wrap her in his arms as she slept, so if she woke up in the middle of the night she'd know he was there.

And if he woke up in the middle of the night, he'd know she was there too.

The hospital workers probably wouldn't approve, and she was badly hurt...

He stood undecided a while, then he pulled the chair so close he could rest his head and upper body on the bed next to her, and the rest of him in the chair. It was a compromise, he figured.

Finding a comfortable position was a bit of a hassle, but eventually he too slept, as peacefully as could be expected.

Outside, the wind picked up its pace.

II

A tree branch was shrieking in the wind, tapping against the window. Resting on Frank's chest, Rachel regarded the scene outside her window distantly. It was a calming sort of sound, as was Frank's steady breathing.

It occurred to her this was actually the first time Frank had slept in her bed. Even though they had slept together more or less for a year, it still seemed like a dream sometimes. She just hoped she didn't wake up from it tonight.

"Hey Goldie?"

"Hmm..?"

"I've been thinking.."

"Oh no," she said in mock worry, unable to resist. Bantering with Frank was so much like old times she could almost convince herself everything was back to normal again, even if just for a few seconds.

"My house is such a mess, and I hate cleaning. So I figured, you know, bring my toothbrush, move a few clothes here.."

He sounded so hopeful it was endearing.

"Yeah, Holloway, you can. But this is not the Footloose and don't you dare make a mess!" she warned, even knowing it was hopeless. Frank always made a mess.

"Of course," he swore, knowing he would anyway. "Besides, the boat's a bit wrecked after.. Well, you know." He couldn't make himself say 'the bridge blew up and fell down.' If he said it, it would seem more real. It wouldn't make it more real, but it would seem more real.

She shivered slightly, and he wrapped his arms tighter around her. It hadn't been a nice scene they had witnessed this morning, and he wondered just how much David had understood of it. The kid was smart, much like his mother.

"Dad wants to meet you," she suddenly said, and he lost his trail of thought.

"Eh?"

"Dad wants to meet you," she repeated.

"Um, yeah.. Wh-why?" he stuttered, a bit alarmed. Felix Friedman, Rachel's dad.. Meeting the parents.. It was like high school all over again.

"I went away with you for a year, Frank. Besides, I told him what you had done for David."

"Good-o." Shit, he would have to behave himself. It wasn't like he hadn't met Felix before, but that was when he and Rachel had been partners and before any sex had got into the picture. Best behaviour was definitely required, he wanted to make a good impression on the man after all, in case he and Rach.. Stuck together.

She snuggled closer, and he let a hand trace patterns on her bare back. They should probably get some sleep, but with sleep came nightmares. It was so much easier just to lie like this and pretend.

Pretend it was just another Tuesday night.

II

The wind was sighing in the trees, but for what, Alex wasn't quite sure. It sounded almost sad to her, like the sighs of so many that had seen Tuesday morning, but wouldn't see Wednesday.

Mick had fallen asleep on his side, an arm loosely around her waist. Their bodies were still very much entwined, passion spent, but the need for closeness still there. It felt good to be so close to him, feel and hear his breath in the darkness of night.

Michael Reilly. She regarded him in the dark, wondering just what the hell she had managed to get herself into. They had toyed with the idea of getting together once before, but there had been work, and Jack..

There was still work and Jack, but something more primal had come into play. Surviving this day had created a terrible urge to feel alive and both her and Mick had just ignored everything else and plunged into uncharted territory.

She sighed. Jack would have a fit if he found out, but she wasn't sure if it would be because he would have preferred it to be with him, or because he genuinely thought work relationship was a bad idea.

He shouldn't really use that last argument, seeing how he and Rachel had been a thing. Just Jack to think that was a totally different situation though. The man was impossible sometimes – hell, not just sometimes. Still..

She had noticed his reaction when Rachel had come to the Cutter bar last night – God, was it only last night? It felt like an eternity ago. So much had happened it was an eternity. It had been the longest day she could ever remember.

So many dead. The numbers had no meaning, but in the weeks to come, she was fairly certain many stories would be told about the dead. And slowly, very slowly, everyone would realise what a tragedy fifteen hundred dead truly were.

She didn't look forward to that day.

Hell, she didn't look forward to this day being over either, in a strange way. Tomorrow would bring consequences and endless discussion why it had happened. Australia would have a new prime minister, the US a new president, and the two would probably argue just who were to blame.

The terrorists were American, but it had happened in Australia.

God. The news would contain nothing else for weeks to come. It would be easy to drown in all the despair and never emerge again.

She looked over at Mick again, and couldn't resist brushing a light kiss against his lips. Whatever the days to come would bring, they had needed this and Jack could scream about it till he was blue in the face for all she cared.

Mick smiled faintly and opened his eyes. Tracing her jaw line with a finger, he leaned down and returned the kiss.

II

The wind rattled the windows slightly, like it was trying to get the attention of the woman in the bed. But Helen didn't listen to it, trapped within the walls of her own mind, nothing from the outside mattered.

No more auntie Helen. No more family. No more Tayler. No more..

She should have died on that train, with so many others. She didn't even know how she had survived, it was all blurred and so filled with pain her mind refused to go there. And why she had survived was even more of a mystery.

There was no good reason, there was no logic. Kids had died on that train, if anyone should have lived, it should have been them. Not her.

Someone slipped into her room, but she barely noticed until a soft voice spoke her name.

"Helen?"

Her breath froze, her body tensed and her heart seemed to slow too. It sounded just like..

"Tayler?"

She finally looked up, but it wasn't Tayler standing in the middle of the room, looking somewhat spooked. It was Donna.

"I'm sorry, I.. I didn't mean.." Donna fumbled, "Cripes."

Behind her, Jeff came walking in, worry painted across his face.

"She thought I was Tayler. I didn't.." Donna muttered, eyes downcast.

"It's not your fault, Janevski."

Helen heard their conversation, but she couldn't make herself reply even if she had wanted to. It all felt so very distant, like a world she didn't belong in anymore. The thought should have scared her, but she couldn't feel fear anymore

The worst thing that could happen to her already had, so what was there to fear?

Nothing.

II

The wind faded again, becoming a soft touch, barely stirring even a leaf. Even the waves in the Harbour seemed to have died, the water being so still a perfect image of the sky could be seen reflected.

The stars could be clearly seen, almost as if the water hid jewels in its depth. It was of course just a trick of light.

But if anyone would have tried to dive for those jewels, they would have found something else in the water, something far more sinister.

At the bottom of the Harbour lay the remains of the bridge and the train. Divers had been there all day, bringing up most of the bodies from their watery grave.

But the bridge would rest there, until mould grew on it, until it became a popular diving place, until it was declared a graveyard, until.. Until it was forgotten.

That, however, was a long time away in human term, and in the blink of an eye for the Universe.

The wind moved again, and the perfect reflection on the water was broken as the wind stirred up waves. They washed quietly against the shore, barely audible at all.

And Tuesday became Wednesday, silently, in the dark.


	5. Chapter Five

Chapter Five

A strong, whipping wind brought Wednesday morning to Sydney. It also brought with it clouds, covering the sun as it rose. A few of the clouds were so black it was almost like the night had stuck its colour on them.

The city woke slowly this morning. The mood seemed to be like the clouds, black and hanging low. And there was no Harbour Bridge. Ferries had been tracked down to try to bring people back and forth over the water, but no one expected the arrangement to be very successful.

The city had lost part of its soul. And all the people in Sydney would at some point during the day find themselves staring at the point where the bridge had been and almost fall over in shock as they discovered once again it wasn't there. It was so easy to forget it was gone, and so hard and painful to remember what had happened and why it wasn't there.

And locked up, Dayton Jackson, leader of the American Liberation Movement, waited. Sometimes he would smile, as if knowing something everyone else didn't.

At Rachel's house, Frank walked down the stairs into the kitchen to get some coffee made. Rachel would definitely want some and he wouldn't mind some either. They hadn't got much sleep, and to face this morning, coffee was definitely needed.

He was wondering about making breakfast, when he heard light footsteps walking in. Too light to be Rachel.

"Hey David," he smiled as fondly as he could, given the circumstances.

"Hey Frank." David rubbed his eyes. "Are you making breakfast?"

"Sure am, mate. You can have anything you want."

"Anything?" David sounded hopefully, his face lighting up somewhat.

"Anything."

II

There was insistent knocking on the door. Groaning, Alex peeked her head up from the pillow and glared in the direction the sound was coming from.

Someone was at the door. Brilliant.

"Bugger," she muttered, untangled herself from Mick and grabbed the longest t-shirt she could find and put it on. Trotting to the door, she cursed under her breath. Who the heck was up this early?

It was Jack. She should have known. Cracking the door open, she gave him as hard a glare as she could.

"What?"

"Just wanted to make sure you got home all right last night," Jack explained, noticing her bare legs. There was a nasty bruise on her knee, and the bandage on the side of her head probably hid a nasty one as well. She didn't seem to pleased to see him, he noted

"Heard of a phone, Jack?"

"Sophie's phone is down."

"What about your cell phone?"

"Battery is dead."

"Fine. As you can see, I managed to get home. So.."

"What, I don't get invited in for coffee?"

She took a breath and counted to ten in her mind. He had decided to make a nuisance of himself only like Jack could.

"You have some secret in there or something?" he asked, noticing her hesitance.

This time she counted to twenty. "Jack, it's bloody early in the morning."

"No, it's not."

Bugger, she should have checked the time before she went to open. Still, she refused to back down. She did not need Jack to sit in the kitchen and drink coffee and discover Mick in her bedroom. Eventually he seemed to take the hint.

"You coming in to the office today?"

"Yeah."

"I'll see you there then," Jack offered and walked away. She resisted the temptation to slam the door, watching his retreating back. What was he up to?

"Was that Jack?" Mick's voice came drifting, and she trotted into the living room where he was standing. Just wearing pants.

She managed not to drool. "Yeah."

"What did he want?"

"Coffee."

"That's all he wanted?"

She didn't bother replying, wandering into the kitchen to get something to drink. Mick patted after her, not quite sure what he should do. What they should do. Talk it to death, probably.

"So, this is just between you and me, right Alex?" he finally asked. Last thing he needed was for Jack to find out and get another lecture.

"Yeah.."

They had breakfast in silence, as the sun struggled desperately to find a hole in the cover of clouds to shine through.

There was none. And soon, the first drops of water began to fall from the sky.

II

The rain was gently tapping on the roof, but soon increased in strength and sound as Rachel hurried down the stairs. She was a little alarmed Frank hadn't woken her, and David wasn't in his room either.

Walking into the kitchen, she stopped dead in her tracks.

There was mess everywhere. Frank must have been out on a quick shopping, because there were groceries spread around. Chocolate sauces decorated the kitchen counter, there was some melted ice cream in the sink, something that looked a bit like pancakes but wasn't really on the oven.. Quite simply, a mess.

She tracked down the sinner in the living room.

"Frank, what the hell have you done to my kitchen!"

Frank and David both looked up innocently, and she had to fight to maintain her anger. Her son was actually smiling somewhat, chocolate all over his face. Frank was grinning rather silly too, winking at her.

"Frank made me breakfast," David explained, and the last of her anger vanished. Still, she tried to seem rather annoyed.

"Did he now.." She tried to make her voice strict, but failed as a smile began forming on her lips. God help her, the two of them in the same house. She wasn't sure who would be the biggest baby – David or Frank?

"I'm gonna take a shower, and when I get out I expect it to be clean, okay Francis?"

"Yes, boss."

Watching her walk out, Frank turned to David with a heavily faked sigh.

"We better do as your mum says or we'll be in heaps of trouble."

As they walked into the kitchen to begin the large task, David looked up at him, the smile faded.

"Frank?"

"Yeah?"

"Are you gonna stay with us now?"

"Yeah."

"Do you love mum?"

"Yeah."

"Are you gonna take dad's place?"

Lifting the kid up on a clean spot on the counter, Frank shook his head.

"Nah. But I will be here if you want me to be, as your mate."

"And make breakfast," David added.

"Yeah. Now lets clean up before your mum kicks my bum."

David smiled slightly, even if his eyes were sad and his body language radiated grief. No wonder, under the circumstances, but if chocolate made him smile some, then Frank was prepared to get a truckload.

They patted around the kitchen cleaning up, neither noticing Rachel sneaking out of the shower to watch them with a sad smile on her lips.

II

Emma woke slowly, her mind feeling heavy with medication. She had to push through several layers of haze, until she finally managed to open her eyes.

Colours.

That was odd. She had a distinct feeling there wasn't supposed to be much colour around her. As she focused her vision, she realised it was flowers. Lots and lots of flowers. Lifting her glance, she looked up at George, smiling.

And he wasn't the only one. There was Jeff, Tommy, Jack, Lance and Donna too, all smiling. Just then the door creaked open and Mick and Alex entered too.

Mysteriously, a few giggles were choked back by the rest of the gang as the two entered. Alex looked suspiciously at Donna, but no one made a comment.

"How are you feeling Woodsie?" Lance asked. Emma grimaced, the painkillers beginning to wear off.

"I've had better days. How's Helen?"

A couple of worried glances were exchanged, which wasn't too promising.

"She broke both her legs, and was badly bruised, but otherwise there's nothing physically wrong with her," Jeff said after a moments tense silence.

"She'll be fine, right?" Mick butted in.

The silence spoke volumes. Jeff looked down at his hands, feeling dangerously close to just.. Keeling over and forget this whole mess. Helen had to be fine. She had to be. There was no way he could run the madhouse of the Sydney Water Police without her.

He didn't really listen to the rest of the conversations, a terrible sense of fatigue coming over him. The voices were a blur, but when the doctor ushered them out, Jeff managed to regain enough composure to mutter get-well wishes with the rest.

Tommy and George remained to talk to Emma for a few minutes while the rest of the gang made its way outside. It was still raining, and by the look of the clouds, the worst was yet to come. The clouds hinted of thunder and lightning too. All in all, dramatically, it was the kind of weather that had been better suited for the day before.

They all drove to the Station, which took a while with the messed up traffic. It would probably be worse as the days went on, as many had stayed home on this particular day.

Outside the Station, two nervous looking persons were waiting. Jeff immediately stepped up to greet them, leaving the others in no doubt just what was going on.

Reinforcements. And even though it was only logical, Tommy felt a surge of resentment. Gavin was dead, damnit! They shouldn't just replace him, they should..

"This is Julian Erskin and Erin Wilson," Jeff indicated the two newly arrived. "Julian is our diver, Erin will be on our new boat."

"New boat?" several voices asked at once.

"The Nemesis needs repairs, the Harpy.." He didn't finish the sentence, but he didn't really need to. They all knew what had happened to the Harpy. "The boat we're getting was intended for another purpose, but it was decided we needed it more."

They followed him outside, and surely, by the dockside was a boat tied up. It hadn't got painted with signs saying "police" yet, and it looked very new.

"It hasn't been named yet," Jeff explained, "Any suggestions?"

No one said anything, just staring at the boat. Nothing would ever be the same. New people, new boat.. New Sydney.

One by one, the people walked back towards the Station, Julian and Erin first and the others following. Only Tommy stood by the pier a while.

He had thought he would come back, and everything would be the same. You change, but the place you left behind doesn't. Except that was never the case. Even home changes. Everything changes while you're gone.

Everything but you.

II

Entering the Station, Mick noticed the newspaper on the front desk and throwing a quick glance at it, he noticed it was about the Opera House and..

No, it couldn't be. He grabbed the paper and stared at the picture. It was. Shit.

"Alex!"

"What?"

"We're in the Sydney Morning Herald!"

"Eh?" She glanced down at the paper he was holding in his hands and felt a blush beginning to crawl up her cheeks. They had been pictured on page five, in an article about the survivors of the hostage drama. The caption read: "It was a happy ending for this couple."

And the picture.. God, the picture..

"Nice picture," Lance commented, glancing over Mick's shoulder.

"Bugger off Rorke," Mick replied, quickly hiding the paper when Jeff came walking in.

"Too late Reilly, it was on the news," Jeff commented as he passed by, heading up the stairs. He could hear the two groan behind him. He decided to bring the article along to show to Helen, maybe it would create some kind of reaction. She wouldn't want to miss an opportunity like that to bug Mick and Alex.

He could hear the two climb up the stairs behind him, vanishing into the D's office.

"Shit.." Alex muttered, dropping down on her chair. She had a terrible urge to cry. She wasn't quite sure why.. Gavin, Matt, and Tayler who she had barely known, it seemed too unreal that they would be gone.

So unreal she couldn't cry for them, not yet. Mick walked over to her, looking a bit helpless.

"I'm sorry.." he began, not sure quite what he was sorry for.

Just then Jack walked in too, holding another copy of Sydney Morning Herald.

She waited for a comment, but there was none. He simply sat down, threw a glance at her and Mick, and said nothing.

II

Rachel walked into Helen's room, trying to remain calm. Jeff had told her that state Helen was in, and it was another blow. Another grief. How much were they supposed to endure?

The room was rather silent, Helen's breath was so faint it barely could be heard. It pained Rachel to see her like that.. Helen was so strong, so reliable, so..

"Hey Helen. It's me."

She got no reaction, and sat down gently by the bed.

"I'm sorry I didn't come yesterday, but Jonathon died and.."

Tears began to form in her eyes, and she couldn't withhold them. Leaning against the bed, she let them flow, feeling so bloody.. Helpless. She could do nothing.

"Rachel?"

She looked up to meet Helen's glance.

"Helen!"

"You're back."

"Yeah, me and Frank came on Monday.."

Helen smiled. It was a thin smile, and there was a distinct sadness in it, but it was a smile. "You two managed not to kill each other for a whole year?"

"Would you believe it?"

Reaching out, Helen took her hand and clung to it. "I'm so glad you're home."

"Me too," Rachel muttered. "Even if my timing sucks. I heard about Tayler. I'm so sorry."

"I.." Helen struggled for words. "I saw her die, Rachel. I was there. They all died around me, I keep feeling like.. like I died there too."

"I know. I felt like that when I was stabbed.. I wasn't the same, I wasn't.. I wasn't alive." Rachel felt new tears sting her eyes, remembering the pain, the agony as glass had cut into her and a part of her had bled away.

She had survived, but she hadn't been alive for a long time afterwards.

"Did you find it?"

"What?"

"Life."

"Yeah," Rachel replied softly. "There's David, you know, and Frank.."

Helen remained silent for a while, looking so forlorn and lost it cut right into Rachel's heart. They had always counted on Helen being there.. Now Rachel began to wonder if they had counted on her friend too much.

"Why did I survive?"

"I don't know. You just did, Helen."

It was the only answer Rachel could give, and she knew it was a poor one. If there was a reason or logic to it, she couldn't see it. Yet Helen would keep looking for some reason, some answers, something to cling onto. It was the way the human mind worked.

Even when there were no answers to be found.

II

Mick had gone to have a chat with Jeff when Jack finally decided to bring up the subject Alex was fearing. She really didn't want to talk about it, and especially not with Jack.

"So you and Mick eh?" he said casually

"None of your business, Jack."

"Just being concerned."

She looked up annoyed, feeling all of her anger finally finding a target. "No, you're being territorial! You kiss me, then shun away. But the moment Mick kisses me, you come running to tell me how wrong that is."

"Hey, hey, hey!" Jack cut in, "That has nothing to do with this."

"It was everything to do with this. So what is it, are you interested in me or not?"

Jack was lost for a comeback, not expecting a reply like that at all.

"You don't really want me, Jack. You're just think you have to because you cannot have the one you really want," she continued before he could think of anything to say. He opened and closed his mouth several times, but still couldn't think of anything intelligent.

"Hey," Mick stuck his head in. "The boss reminds us we have crisis therapy."

"I know," Alex muttered, throwing one last glace at Jack before getting up. "See you later."

She and Mick walked out, as Jack put his head in his hands and tried not to groan. When did is life get so bloody complicated anyway? He suddenly had a daughter, his ex-girlfriend was back in town and the one he'd seen as a possible girlfriend was out of reach.

He needed a good, stiff drink and fast. Being sober was hugely overrated.

II

Rachel drove up to her father's house, feeling so exhausted she had a feeling she hadn't slept for a week. At least Helen was somewhat herself again.

There was going to be a joint memorial service for Tayler, Matt and Gavin tomorrow, but the funerals would be arranged individually. Just the thought made Rachel even more tired.

Death, death and death. It never ended.

Her dad must have heard the car, because he greeted her in the door.

"How is your friend?" he asked concerned, and she shrugged her shoulder.

"She's suffered a terrible trauma."

"So have you."

She glanced up at him, and he squeezed her hand reassuringly. A familiar fondness filled her heart, she didn't really want to think about what it would be like to lose him. He had always been there, never demanding anything.

"Thank you dad," she whispered.

"I spoke to your Frank," he replied as they walked into the house. "He makes you happy?"

"Yeah."

"I'm glad," her father announced, and she didn't doubt him. She smiled slightly, walking into the living room where Frank and David were talking. 'So am I, dad,' she thought, and even in all the pain and horror, there was joy.

II

It really started pouring down just as Mick and Alex exited the psychology ward and bumped into each other just outside. Literally bumped into each other. Mick wasn't looking, and Alex slipped on the wet pavement and right into Mick's back. He caught her before she fell, and she clung to his arm for a few seconds.

"Sorry," she muttered, regaining her balance. He looked serious, she noted, but then again, so did probably she too. Talking about what had happened.. She felt exhausted mentally.

"How was it?" he asked after a few seconds silence.

"You know."

"Yeah."

Both stood still, even if the rain was soaking them. She really should get the heck out of there, Alex knew, but she couldn't make herself. Something was pulling her back, and she had a fairly good idea what it was.

Damnit! She shouldn't be falling for her partner, she shouldn't be admiring the way he looked soaking wet, she bloody well shouldn't..

"I keep thinking about that woman who was shot when she cried about the bridge," Mick said suddenly, "I keep seeing her face, and it's like.. I feel worse about her dying than all those others.."

"I know what you mean," she said quietly. "It's so many, I can't focus on them, but we saw her die, she's so real in my mind.."

"Did you hear the Americans wanted the terrorists executed?"

"A part of me wouldn't mind that. I keep thinking of them like demons.."

"It's easier," Mick finished, and she nodded, pushing away a wet strand of hair from her face. She felt so bloody tired.. and suddenly, she realised, she was finally crying. It was more painful and releasing than anything she'd experienced in her life before.

"Alex.."

"They're dead, Michael. They're dead," she sobbed, and he embraced her, wrapping her in his arms as if that would take it all away. He didn't even notice a few of his own tears mingling with the rain falling on his face.

"I didn't even like Matt," she gulped. She really hadn't. But still..

"Me neither. He was a jerk."

She laughed slightly through the sobs, a feeling of calm beginning to come over her. She drank in the smell of Mick, wet mixed with something very him.

"I feel bad because I was glad you were there during the whole mess," she muttered.

"I'm glad I was," he countered. "Alex.. I can't stay away from you. Especially not now."

"I don't want you to," she confessed. He looked a little stunned, probably expecting her to protest and tell him to piss off.

"Really?"

She nodded against his chest, her tears running still. They were already so wet, she didn't bother drying the tears away. It would be rather pointless.

Lightning bolts slashed through the sky and seconds later the thunder rolled. They both looked up, as another lightning bolt lit up.

"We better.."

"Yeah," she agreed, but neither moved at first. The rain kept on soaking them, and they just stood there, clinging on, and letting the rain wash over them.

II

Emma struggled onto her feet, nearly falling over with the pain. It shot through her whole body, and she had to bit her lip not to cry out. She was determined to get to the bathroom on her own though, and..

"Shit!" she cried out, as so much pain surged through her she feel like she couldn't breathe. She would have fallen over that moment, hadn't George walked in and caught her. Breathless, she stared up at him.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm.. Shit!" she cried out as more pain hit her. He helped her back onto the bed gently, looking concerned.

"Thanks," she muttered embarrassed.

"You should be careful," he replied. "You could pull some stitches."

"I hate being stuck her. I can't.. I can't breathe.. Tomorrow there's the memorial service and I have to go, I have to.."

"Okay, okay," George cut in, "Calm down. We don't wanna lose you too, Em. Don't stress."

She took a deep breath and nodded. Easing back against the pillows, she noticed the dark circles under his eyes.

"Bad day?"

He nodded miserably. "We have been fishing bodies out of the water all day."

"I'm sorry."

He gave her a tired smile. "I keep wondering if things will ever be normal again, it just feels like it's forever changed. I just.." He shook his head, not quite knowing what he meant.

"Yeah.." she trailed off, biting her lip again.

"So what were they like?" he suddenly asked. "Gavin, Tayler and Matt I mean. I would have liked to know them."

"Gavin's been around forever," she replied. "He just got married. They have a kid.. God, I should find out how Eva is doing.."

A sudden surge of bad conscience came over her. Eva. Poor Eva, left alone with a baby.. It would have been better if it had Gavin had lived and not her, Emma thought frantically.

Every time Tommy looked at her, did he think the same?

II

Many, many drinks later, Jack decided it was a good idea to go and talk to Rachel.

He'd felt gloom ever since his conversation with Alex and the more alcohol he'd drunk, the more he'd felt like he could find out what Rachel's bloody problem was and fix it.

By the time he'd decided to go to her home, he had troubles walking at all.

Still, he plunged on, convinced it was a very good idea. Even the rain couldn't convince him otherwise. By the time he reached her house, he was soaked.

He rang the doorbell and waited, trying to appear sober, but managing to look only more drunk.

Rachel was not impressed, he could tell the second she opened the door. She got a look on her face he knew too well, and it was not a good sign.

"Jack," she sighed. "You're drunk."

"Nooo.."

She just shook her head. "Go home."

"No.. I wanna know.." he muttered, steadying himself against the doorframe and leaning so close she could smell just what brand of alcohol he had been drinking.

"Go home," she urged again, feeling a surge of impatience.

"I'm not leaving till you say," he protested, and she rolled her eyes. But David was asleep upstairs, and she didn't want him to wake up while she tried to get Jack to leave.

"I left because I had to," she said, somewhat angrily.

"Why?" he whined, his face had a look of confusion, hurt.. She felt her anger melt. She should tell him.. If nothing else to get him off her back.

"There was so much pain between us, Jack. I couldn't.. I needed someone who could take it away, not remind me of it."

"And that was Frank?" he said bitterly.

"Yes," she answered honestly. "I couldn't cry in front of you, Jack. I never could."

"Why not?"

"I don't know," she said honestly. "Go home, Jack. It's too late."

"No, it's not," he insisted, and kissed her.

On the other side of the road, Frank saw and almost dropped his box of belongings. For a second he thought that was it, he had lost her, thank you and goodbye. His heart broke, and he couldn't breathe, he could just watch..

Then he noticed that Rachel pushed Jack, and the guy fell on his ass.

"Jack, go home!" Rachel snapped, feeling annoyance and sadness at once. She had loved him once.. Heck, a part of her still loved him, but it wasn't.. It wasn't "meant to be."

God, she sounded like a schoolgirl.

"I'm going to call you a taxi," she announced leaving him sitting on his ass. He sat miserably there, wondering just where his master plan had failed.

He still was no wiser when the taxi arrived, and the taxi driver seemed less than enthusiastic at the prospect of his new client.

Getting in, he threw one last look at Rachel's house and then hid his head in his hands. Shit. Bugger. Bloody shit.

He was never gonna drink, ever again.

II

It was a remarkable play of light and sound in the sky, as the thunderstorm intensified and moved slowly with the wind. It was the kind of scene that usually is the perfect setting for a horror movie, with the dead rising to demand justice from the living.

Of course they didn't. But there were many people in Sydney that night that felt like the voices of the dead were in the wind, screaming at the injustice of being killed. If they listened, they could almost hear..

Helen heard, and wondered if they screamed for her to join them, to be dead as she should have been.

Jeff heard, but ignored it, not wanting to think about it all as he said silently in the dark, empty office.

Donna heard, and cried, even if she was long out of tears.

George heard, and wondered if he could be going mad.

Jack heard, but he was drunk, and didn't really trust his ears at all and so it got filed away as a hallucination.

Emma heard, as she tried to sleep, images of Gavin filling her mind.

Tommy heard, and wondered if Gavin was out there, demanding justice for not being rescued.

Lance heard, and had another beer to forget.

Frank heard, slipping under the covers next to Rachel, and decided against bringing up the subject of Jack.

Rachel heard, and was grateful to have Frank's back to snuggle against, a tiny defence against the wind.

Mick heard, but just held the woman in his arms closer, not wanting to think about it.

Alex heard, and she shivered and wondered if her heart would ever feel warm again.

And as the night progressed, the storm moved and died eventually, but the voices did not. They never would. Just after a while, people would stop listening.


	6. Chapter Six

Chapter Six

Even on the clear, blue sky, a faint moon could still be seen. It seemed much more a fitting sources of light on a day like this than the sun.

Memorial service.

And for the Sydney Water Police, it was not just for one police officer, but for three. Never before had they suffered such a heartbreaking loss. Three colleagues gone, in one single blow.

It was so hard to think about that many had just avoided to do so, but they could not run anymore now. The cold, hard truth was staring them in the face.

Gavin Sykes, Tayler Johnson and Matthew Quinn.

Emma couldn't even hear what Jeff was saying, as she tried to see through her tears. She felt so.. It was raw pain. That was all she could feel, and it almost felt like she was breathing it. At least she was sitting, in a wheelchair because the hospital wouldn't allow it otherwise, she wasn't sure she could have handled standing.

They were all there. Even Fiona and Terry had come, to great surprise. They were here for Gavin, mostly, they had never really got to know the two others. But Gavin... He had been around so long everyone who had been through the Water Police knew him.

Frank and Rachel had come too, and at first it had been strange to see them touching and holding hands the way they did. It didn't seem them at first. But after a while Emma remembered the looks they had used to send each other, and she realised they had always been holding back. Not anymore. And it didn't seem so strange anymore.

She noticed Mick and Alex holding hands too. They were obvious, but they didn't seem to care. No one had said anything to her, but it didn't take a genius to work out they were beyond collegial concern for each other. It hurt a bit, considering she and Mick had once been an item, but there was so much pain it didn't make any difference.

Jack looked both miserable and hung over. The way he consistently didn't look in Rachel's direction spoke volumes too. The man was a bit of a jerk, but still Emma felt sorry for him. She remembered how desperate he'd been when they all had thought Rachel would die.

George stood by her side, looking more pensive and not as heartbroken as the rest. But then again, he'd never really know them, Emma thought. It wasn't fair to expect him to react as strongly. He really had been great to her, and it felt so uncomplicated around him.

She threw a look at Tommy, who stood still as a statue and she wanted desperately to run over and hug him. He'd come back to watch one of his best friends die. Tommy and Gavin had always been the Nemesis. It had never been the same without them.

Donna was sobbing, her body shaking. She almost looked like a kid sometimes, Emma thought, vulnerable and kid of annoying, but always well meaning.

The two new officers, Erin and Julian, looked more uncomfortable than sad. But then again, they had never even met Gavin, Tayler or Matt.

Jeff looked so alone it was heartbreaking. Helen hadn't been allowed to leave the hospital yet, and so he stood alone by the podium and spoke. She wondered how he managed, how his voice didn't crack every time he spoke he name of one of the dead.

And Eva was there. Lance had walked over and was holding her gently. Emma didn't dare approach. She had lived, Gavin had died.

There was no justice in the world.

There was just pain. Physical and emotional pain, so tangled up she couldn't tell which was which anymore. There was no end to it, it just kept on coming. Even her tears hurt, stinging her skin.

There wasn't a dry eye to be seen. Even Jeff's were filled with water as he swallowed and swallowed, wondering what the hell to say. This wasn't even the funeral, and already he felt like he couldn't take any more.

He staggered somewhat, and felt a comforting hand on his arm. It was Rachel, Frank in tow.

"Jeff," she said warmly, and before he even realised what he was doing, he was embracing her and crying into her shoulder. She stiffened a bit in surprise, then let him hold her, not quite sure what else to do.

And it wasn't even the funerals yet, it was just the bloody memorial.

II

All of them, excluding Eva who had her baby to worry about, met at the Cutter bar afterwards. It wasn't planned, it just seemed natural. Even Jeff came along, looking better if slightly embarrassed.

The bar was otherwise empty, as could be expected. Frank had a few quiet words with the bartender, who after shaking his head a lot, finally nodded.

They dropped down by a few tables, no one really knowing what the hell to say. Conversation didn't seem that important, just being there, all of them.

All of the survivors anyway.

After a wile, a few quiet conversations would begin. Frank and Rachel seemed the only ones comfortable to talking to Jeff, probably because they weren't really his subordinates anymore. Tommy, Emma and Fiona shared a few smiles over events long past. Lance was talking comforting to Donna.

"We should name the new boat the Phoenix," Donna suddenly said, causing everyone to look up at her.

Phoenix. The bird that came through the fire reborn.

"It's a good name," Jeff replied. The others nodded, slowly, lifting their classes in a silent toast. To surviving, to living, and to those who didn't make it.

The silence settled again for a while, until Rachel and Frank excused themselves to pick up David from Felix's. Jack watched them go with an unreadable expression, then excused himself to go visit Sophie.

It was the only thing that made him feel good these days.

Julian and Erin excused themselves next, obviously not feeling completely at home.

Next off was Emma, having to return to the hospital. Tommy went with her, before George could offer to. The two men eyed each other, but didn't really say anything. The situation was pretty obvious to everyone else though.

Alex and Mick were the next to leave, not bothering to hide the fact that they were leaving together.

A few drinks later, Donna headed off, and suspiciously enough, Lance a mere minute later. Jeff was beginning to wonder if his police station was turning into a soap opera, where everyone was doing it with someone.

George, Terry and Fiona remained though, and Jeff soon found himself smiling, as old events were told to George's amusement. He even dragged up a few stories himself, remembering the days when Frank and Rachel had been the great detective duo of the Water Police and the pool had been on when those two were gonna do it.

It suddenly occurred to him that Gavin had won it.

And he nearly choked on the drink.

II

It wasn't the only memorial service held that day in Sydney. Prime minister John Howard was remembered too, and George Bush's body was being sent back to the US. Ceremonies were held, and enough tears were cried to fill a small lake.

There were so many dead to remember. The last of the dead had been fished out of the Harbour to be buried in earth, not water. There were so many to bury the funeral companies were swamped.

The city had been declared an emergency area, and troops had been dispatched. The terrorists were under close guard, while Australia and the US were arguing about who had jurisdiction. It didn't like the issue would be resolved too soon, and in the meantime, Australian troops were watching them.

And people were starting to get angry. The shock had worn off, and now cries for revenge could be heard. Revenge for a crime so horrible those who committed it had to be inhuman, and why should they then be treated like humans?

"Just kill them!" came the cries of many who had lost a spouse, a brother, a sister, a parent, a friend or a colleague.

Grief and anger is a dangerous combination, and Sydney was full of it.

II

"Another few days, and I should be out of here," Emma muttered, as the nurse was taking her temperature. Tommy was standing a few feet away, staring at her rather intensely. It was beginning to unnerve her. He hadn't said much the whole way over.

The nurse finally shuffled off, leaving only them. He still said nothing, but made no signs to leave either. There was so much pain on his face she could feel her own redouble in strength.

"Tommy, talk to me," she pleaded, "I know I'm not Gavin, but.." Tears filled her eyes again, but she managed to push them back. She had cried enough today for a whole lifetime.

"I can't Woods," he muttered, "It's my fault, I didn't.. I didn't save him."

"You saved me," she whispered. "Tommy.."

He walked over to her, took her hand and kissed it so hard she thought it would bruise. Looking up, he stared into her face and saw.. Understanding. She didn't resent him, she wasn't angry, she..

She kissed him.

She kissed him because she wanted him to feel better, because she didn't know what else to, because.. because she wanted to.

It was tentative, careful kiss, and lasted only a few seconds before she pulled back. He looked rather confused, and kept staring at her.

"Em.."

Why hadn't he noticed Emma before? She had been there, the whole time, and yet now, that he looked at her.. He'd never really seen her before.

"I better go.."

"Do you want to?" she asked. He shook his head. "Then stay.."

He smiled weakly, and sat down beside her.

"Remember when the Nemesis and Gavin was taken?" he asked suddenly.

And they both laughed at the memory, laughed away the tears.

II

Frank slipped quietly into the living room, bringing with one coffee and one milo. He sniggered at himself. Frank Holloway, 'he'd gone all soft' people would say. The worst of it was, he didn't even mind.

David was resting on Rachel's lap, looking like he had cried again. Rachel too, looked sad.

"Here," he offered, giving her the coffee and David the milo. The kid smiled, briefly.

"Can I go play with the computer, mum?"

"Sure, David," she smiled, and watched him head off up the stairs.

"I don't know if he's realised just what has happened," she said worried. Frank dropped down on the couch beside her.

"He's a smart kid."

"Yeah, but he's just a kid."

"Don't underestimate him, Rach. Remember who his mother is."

"Is that a compliment?" she asked, leaning back against his chest.

"Yeah.. So listen, I saw Jack Christey here last night," he said evenly, and she tensed somewhat. "He kissed you."

"He was drunk," she replied and turned to face him. "Frank, if this is a jealousy thing.."

"Nah.. See, I've thought about this.. And there's one way you can prove to me you don't want Jack Christey.." he smiled, and she sent him a suspicious glance.

"And that is..?"

"Marry me.."

"Aw, shit, Frank.." she groaned, leaning back against the couch.

"Not the reply I was aiming for, exactly," he muttered.

"You're a jerk, Frank, you know that? You really are a jerk. You have the worst bloody timings in the world. You're hopeless, you're just.. You really think this is the time? I mean.. God, Frank.. How the hell did I fall for you anyway?"

He stared at her through her tirade, not quite sure if she was mad at him or not. She turned to look at him, and there was a profound sadness in her eyes.

"I walked away from Jack.. Why am I not walking away from you? I can't.. I'm no good at relationships.."

"Neither am I," he assured her. "Rach.. We're hopeless."

"Gee, thanks," she snorted.

"No, but see, we're both hopeless and that's good. We're both horrible but with other people, but together.. You know, we've been together a year, and it's been bloody fantastic. And there's been so much sadness these days.. Don't you think people want something happy? You need something happy, and I just.. Rach, do you want to marry me?"

"You really are persistent, aren't you?"

"Yep," he smiled.

She leaned in, stroking a thumb over his lips. "After all of this has finished, yeah, I will. I want to make sure David is okay with it, first, and there is so much grieving.."

"I know," he whispered, putting his arms around her. "I just thought that.. You'd like to know there is something at the end of this, something good."

"Frank?"

"Yeah?"

"When did you turn into such a hopeless romantic?"

"When you made me one, Rach."

"Yeah, right."

II

Julian Erskin gave his colleague Erin Wilson a smile, and waved as she went into her house. Getting the car moving again, he tried to remember the way home to his house. It wasn't really his house at all. His name wasn't even Julian Erskin, it was Roger Jackson, and he was the brother of Dayton, leader of the American Liberation Movement.

The real Julian Erskin was dead, he had died when the Opera House had been taken over. Roger had noticed the similarity between himself and the dead Julian, and when the storming had begun, he had switched identities.

No one had suspected. There had been too much chaos, too much confusion. The accent was his only problem, but he had managed to pull it off pretty much, and not speaking too much could be contributed to shock. Fortunately, the only family Julian Erskin had, was an almost deaf grandmother in Perth.

Roger had fooled her easily, and volunteered for a service away from Julian's colleagues, who would notice.

So here he was. A bloody police diver. Still, the bright side was he had a chance to free Dayton and if not..

There was always the last bomb, and if Dayton weren't to be free, Sydney would bleed again.

But the two police officers who had been hostages could be a problem though. They might recognise him, especially the blonde, who he had knocked down. Best to take care of it before it became a problem. He couldn't risk capture now, someone had to fight on now that his brother was captured.

The war was still raging.

Twilight began to fall over the city

II

The fridge door was wide open, but neither Mick or Alex were paying very much attention to that. They were far too busy making out on the couch, Alex lying on top of Mick, both trying to tear her shirt off without breaking off the kiss.

It wasn't a very easy task, but they managed finally, throwing it to the floor. Mick's shirt had gone that way a few minutes earlier. Letting her hands slide over his chest, she was rewarded by a moan in the back of his throat.

Her hands wandered to tug at his pants.

"Alex, Alex.." he suddenly broke the kiss off, "Someone's at the door."

"Eh?" She hadn't even noticed.

"If it's Jack again, I'm gonna kill him," she muttered, grabbing the her shirt and getting up. She came up with at least ten nasty insults to throw at him before she reached the door and glanced through the peephole. It was dark outside, and she couldn't really see anyone.

She opened the door and glanced around. There didn't seem to be anyone nearby, and she slammed the door irritably. Probably some kids from the down the street having some fun. She slammed the door behind her and walked back into the room.

She heard the glass being broken, and turned surprised. It took her a few seconds to realise it was bloody shots. She ducked instinctively, hitting the floor and staying low. Another shot whizzed over her, too close for comfort.

She glanced over to Mick, but discovered to her horror he wasn't there. He'd already reached the door, holding his gun and kicking it open, bare-chested and all.

"Mick!"

He paid no attention to her, moving outside and a few seconds later she heard running steps. Diving for the pile of clothes on the floor, Alex extracted her own gun and ran after.

She saw two blurred shapes just as Mick tackled the running person, both tumbling to the ground. She ran after, cursing and so scared her heart was in her throat. Bloody Mick, had to play hero.

He was fine though, having pinned a young looking female under him and wrestling the gun from her. She was fighting vigorously to get free, but he had the upper hand and soon her efforts died away. They were both breathing heavily. Mick finally managed to get his gun free to point at her, and she hissed at him.

"You bastard!"

"I'll call the station," Alex muttered, and Mick just nodded, no breath left.

II

"Sarah Turner," Jeff exclaimed, throwing a picture on the table. "She's from Perth, moved here about a year ago after having spent some time in the States."

"She's so young," Alex muttered, looking at the picture.

"She tried to kill us," Mick shot in, leaning against the wall in the office.

"Yes, and we are trying to find out why. See what you can dig up about her background. She may be connected to this terrorist group," Jeff instructed. He looked at the two, seeing the looks they were exchanging. "But first, go home, get some sleep."

"My house is a bloody crime scene," Alex protested.

"I'm sure Mick will be happy to let you sleep on his couch," Jeff replied dead serious, but smiling on the inside. The two detectives exchanged another glance, then muttered "fine" and walked out.

Taking a deep breath, Jeff walked to the interrogation rooms, noticing Jack and Tommy standing outside.

"Any luck?"

"She's just spitting venom, refusing to say much of anything," Jack reported. "Real creative girl when it comes to insults."

"She gets very uncomfortable when we mention the American Liberation Movement though," Tommy added.

"Lean on her, then let her have the night to think about it," Jeff ordered, rubbing his temples. Such a mess.. If they had lost Alex or Mick.. He didn't dare think about it. Truth was, he didn't think anyone could handle it. They were all hanging on by a thread, and more pain..

They couldn't take anymore.

Tommy and Jack walked back into the interrogation room, leaving Jeff to lean against the wall and sigh.

"Hey," Julian announced, walking into the hallway. "I head something was going on."

"Yeah, there was an attempt on Mick and Alex's lives," Jeff straightened up. "They're fine, we have the suspect in custody."

"Okay," Julian replied, "Who's the suspect?"

"Sarah Turner. She hasn't been too cooperative so far."

"Yeah, right." Julian decided more pushing would seem rather weird, and headed outside. Shit. Shit. He should have known better than to trust his crazy girlfriend. If she talked.. SHIT! She hadn't so far, that was a good sign.

Jeff looked after the new diver with a frown on his face. There was something.. Not quite.. He couldn't put his finger on it, and shrugged it off.

Much more important things to focus on. Keeping the rest of his people safe, for instance. Probably best to keep a watch on Mick and Alex. Jack was too involved, so it had to someone else.

And to his great surprise, he could think of an obvious choice.

II

Frank tried not to smirk as he knocked on the door again.

"Come on, Reilly, I know you're in there," he called out, and a few moments later the door was cracked opened.

"Frank.."

"Mick.."

The younger man made no signs towards opening the door fully, and Frank sighed inwards.

"Believe me, mate, there are things I'd much rather do right now, but the boss thinks you two need some watching, and I'm the unfortunate babysitter."

Mick groaned, but finally opened the door, and Frank walked in, looking around.

"Nice place. Where did ya hide Alex?" Frank asked. He'd been half hoping he would get to interrupt those two, it would a be a little payback on Mick for interrupting him and Rachel that night before he'd headed off on the Footloose.

"She's taking a shower. Where did ya hide Rach?" Mick countered.

"Home," Frank answered nonchalantly, as he seated himself comfortably on the couch, noticing the mess in the kitchen. "She has David to look after. Hey, you should clean sometimes if you're planning to have Alex over a lot."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Mick muttered defensively.

"Nice picture of you two in the Herald," Frank replied, smiling slightly. "Doesn't take a genius to figure it out. Hey, I think it's good. From what I hear she's too good for you, but hey, if she's willing to settle.."

"I'd forgotten how bad your sense of humour is, Frank," Mick felt a smile form on his lips.

"I missed you too, Mick."

They both laughed, as Alex walking in, putting up her hair in a ponytail. "Frank Holloway.. what are you doing here?"

"Babysitting us," Mick answered before Frank could. "The boss apparently thinks we need protection."

"Do you really think Sarah Turner went after you guys on her own?" Frank asked. "What's the motive anyway?"

The questions hung in the air a while, sinking in.

"You think it's connected to the terrorist group?" Alex asked, her mind feeling strangely grateful for a mystery to solve. It kept her from lingering on other things

"Think about it. You two were there. What did you see that could possibly make them come after you?"

"But they were all arrested.." Mick began, then he and Alex exchanged a look.

"What if one of them weren't!" they said in unison, and Frank had to hide a grin. They had definitely been working together for a while. The way they were walking around each other spoke volumes too. Yep, they were definitely doing it.

"So why us?"

"We must have missed something," Mick muttered, straining to think.

"Identification?" Frank suggested. "Could you identify this person?"

"No, that doesn't make sense, there were hundreds of people there," Alex protested. "Unless.."

"Unless it's someone near us," Mick finished.

"Yeah, but it has to be someone we've met after the whole mess, and that's.."

"Our two new colleagues," Mick finished her sentence again.

"Brilliant, you two," Frank commented, "Rachel and I came to the same conclusion, and managed to call in enough favours to get their records. They're in the car, I'll go get them."

Alex and Mick watched him head out with their mouths half open. Mick recovered first, and shook his head, half smiling.

"There's a reason those two were a bloody legend," he muttered. "I'll order some pizza, we'll need it."

II

Hours later, two empty pizza boxes on the table, and papers scattered all over, Alex had to fight to keep her eyes open. There was nothing in the records, nothing that stood out. Erin Wilson and Julian Erskin seemed clean.

'Seemed' being the keyword. There had to be something in there.

"There's nothing irregular about either of them," Mick complained, leaning back. "Neither of them has been to the States, there's no connection to any terrorists, no extreme political views.. They're not terrorist material."

"From what we know," Frank cut in. He saw Alex lean against Mick, both looking extremely tired. "Tomorrow, let's find out if one of them was near the Opera House on Tuesday. You two need some sleep. I'll take the couch and keep watch."

"What makes you think I want to share a bed with.." Alex began, but the sentence died away as she saw both Mick and Frank were grinning.

"Give it up, Al," Mick said as he got up, "Frank is a genius, ain't you mate?"

"You said it," Frank replied, giving a small wave as the two walked away. He gave them a few minutes to settle in and get to sleep (or whatever else they felt like doing), then he reached for the phone and called Rachel. She answered on the fourth ring.

"Hey Frank."

"How'd ya know it was me?"

"No one else is a big enough jerk to call at this hour."

He chuckled, settling back the couch. "Ah, you're too sweet."

He could hear her smile through the phone. "Everything peaceful over there?"

"Yeah. Nudged them a bit in the right direction, and they came to the same conclusion as us."

"There's hope for the water police yet, then. Dunno about Alex, but I've always liked Mick."

"You have?" he asked, faking hurt.

"He's gorgeous," she countered, and they both grinned. "Hey, be careful, Frank. If there is a dirty cop out there.."

"Don't worry, I'll take good care of the kids here," he assured her and she smiled. Just like Frank to refer to Alex and Mick as 'kids'. Sure, they were younger, but..

"Me and David will be by with breakfast in the morning," she offered, "It would be nice to catch up with Mick and get to know Alex. Heard good things about her."

"Yeah.. How's David?"

"He cried again, Frank. I feel so.. Bloody helpless."

"I know. It will get better. Well, I should let you get some sleep for a change.." he said and heard a small snort on the other end. "I'll see you tomorrow."

"Goodnight Frank" she said softly, and he listened to her breath for a few seconds before hanging up.

For a few minutes he just sat and stared at the phone in his lap. He was so bloody lucky. He really didn't deserve her, but he had her anyway.

Taking a look at the papers scattered around, he let his mind wander. Julian Erskin and Erin Wilson. It had to be one of them, who else would be close enough to perceive Alex and Mick as a threat? And damned if he was gonna let anything happen to more police officers. There had to be an end to the pain.

He though of David and anger filled him. The boy had lost his father because some prick thought he was a messiah. And if there was indeed a terrorist lose..

He looked down at the two attached photographs.

"I know it's one of you," he said into the air. "I'll find you, and this will end."


	7. Chapter Seven

Chapter Seven

The body of Sarah Turner was found dead as dawn broke, looking so peaceful it would seem she was sleeping. At first, that's what the police officer looking into the cell where she was kept, thought she was doing. Just sleeping.

But a blue bruise on her arm and the empty needle by her side spoke the truth. No sleep ran that deep. She was dead, an overdose in the dark of the night.

She had slept when the needle had been stuck in her arm and the deadly content empty into her vein. Just as well, for seeing the killer would have devastated her. The man she thought had loved her, had killed her.

One more victim. One more dead. In the final tally, not many would remember her. Not many tears would be shed for her. She had been on the wrong side, a 'bad guy'. But she too, had been a victim. Lured in by pretty words and love, not really understanding what she had been a part of. She should have just started her life, instead it had come to an abrupt end.

She was not the first, and not the last to die too young.

II

Mick woke slowly to the smell of breakfast. It filled his senses comfortably, and his body felt nice and warm. He tried to move his arm, but it was locked under something.

Opening his eyes, he found it to be Alex, sleeping peacefully, her head on his arm and her blonde hair framing her face like a halo. He smiled, and put his other hand around her waist. She sighed in her sleep, softly. He wasn't sure how long he lay like that, it wasn't really a moment he could measure in time. It could have lasted an eternity or a second, either way it wasn't long enough

There was a knock on the door.

"Breakfast!" Frank announced through the door, waited for the muffled reply, then walked back to the kitchen where David and Rachel were scooping up the last pancakes.

"Did you wake them?"

"Yep, they're alive in there," Frank replied, giving the food a longing look.

"All in due time, Francis," Rachel remarked, noticing his look. Behind her back David grinned, having nicked one pancake, and waving it at Frank.

"Good morning," Alex muttered, feeling a bit self-conscious as she walked into the kitchen. The two living legends of the Water Police in the flesh, making breakfast and looking like they could have lived there. Mick seemed a bit more at ease as he came trotting behind her, but then again he'd known them longer.

"You must be David," she smiled as she noticed the boy. "I'm Alex."

"Hey Alex.." David smiled, but she noticed the smile didn't reach his eyes. She could imagine her smile didn't either, the brief flashes of amusement and happiness simply couldn't penetrate the deep, deep sadness that was anchored in them all.

She wondered if it ever would.

II

Leaning on her crutches, Emma finally managed to open the door without pulling a stitch in the process. She still felt a bit weak, but being stuck in a hospital bed with noting to do but remember what had happened was starting to drive her mad.

"Hey Helen," she greeted the inhabitant of the room, who was being helped into a wheelchair by a nurse.

"Emma, hey," Helen replied softly, waving her over as the nurse wandered off. "Up and about?"

"I've had better means of transport, but I manage. How are you doing?"

"I dunno," Helen muttered, closing her eyes briefly. "Better, I think." She did feel better, the physiatrist had helped somewhat and seeing Rachel again had helped even more. She felt tired, like she was running a marathon, but she was beginning to think she would stay upright out the distance.

"How was the memorial service?"

"It was.. you know," Emma replied. "Almost everyone was there. Even Fiona and Terry came. It was nice to see everyone, even if it was.."

"Yeah."

"I'm getting discharged today. The hospital is rather overcrowded, so they're letting me go home and have a nurse check on me every now and then and I have to attend physiotherapy for a while."

"That's good," Helen encouraged, trying not to think about how long she would be stuck in the hospital. Probably forever.

"Tommy is picking me up a bit later."

"Good-o," Helen muttered, not quite sure what to say. She was tired of these well-meaning, straining conversations. They'd all come to see her, insuring her they were there for her, and that she would be fine.

Bullshit. All bullshit. There was no more 'fine', ever.

She'd managed to pry out of Jeff last nigh that there had been an attempt on Mick and Alex's lives and the suspect was thought linked to the American Liberation Movement. Bloody terrorists.

They had killed Tayler. And now that her mind had regain some clarity, cold hate was beginning to flow into her. And it felt good to hate, because it lessened the grief. One minute alone with one of those terrorists..

"I better get back," Emma muttered, and began the slow process of walking out.

"See ya," Helen offered, wondering if Emma too had those feelings. The Sydney Water Police was a family. They had lost too many members. And Helen didn't intend to stand by and watch her family being hurt any more.

II

Jeff nearly had a heart attack, and it wasn't even noon yet. It was not looking like it would be a good day at all. Sarah Tuner had been found dead, and no one seemed to know quite how it had been done.

"No one saw anything?" he hissed at poor Donna, who looked terrified. He would have to have a talk to her one day about his yelling, she didn't deserve half of it, but being the messenger of bad news..

"No, sir.."

"Someone had to see something! Get on the phone and find out!"

"Yes, sir.." she scurried out, nearly bumping into the entering Jack.

"Tell me you have good news," Jeff groaned, but Jack shook his head.

"No fingerprints on the needle besides hers. Forensic is looking, but.."

"Yeah, great."

"Boss, about Alex and Mick.."

"They're being looked after," Jeff cut in. "You, Tommy and George stick on this. I want to know how it was done, why, and most important by who. Do this properly, Jack."

"Yeah," Jack muttered, walking out. No bloody need to shout like that. Still.. He had an urge to shout himself. Best to give Mick a call to find out how things were going on that end, he decided as he entered his office.

Dropping down on his chair, he reached for the phone and called Mick's home. On the third ring, a very familiar voice answered. He nearly dropped the receiver.

"Mick Reilly's residence."

"Rachel?" he breathed. What the hell was she doing there?

"Hey Jack," she said after a seconds silence. He thought he heard Frank's voice in the background and Alex as well.

"You're babysitting Mick and Alex?" he asked, already knowing the answer. "No problems?"

"No, Frank didn't see anyone last night."

"The shit has hit the fan at this end. Sarah Turner is dead."

There was a brief silence on the other end, then he heard Rachel relate the news to the others before turning her attention to him again.

"Jack, we think either Erin Wilson or Julian Erskin is connected to the terrorist group. If Sarah is dead.. Can you find out if either of them were near the Opera House on Tuesday?"

"Aw, shit! I heard Julian ask Donna earlier this morning where Alex and Mick were.."

They both absorbed the implications for a few seconds. "Get out of there," Jack urged, "I'll find Julian."

"Yeah, all right," Rachel muttered, hanging up. Frank gave her a look.

"Get Mick out of the shower. We're leaving. Julian have been asking around and found out where you and Mick are," Rachel told Alex. "Come on David, let's take some pancakes with us and eat at home."

Her son must have picked up that something was wrong, because he didn't protest. Alex ran to impatiently knock on the bathroom door.

"Shit..!" Frank muttered, "I guess he just moved to the top of our suspect list."

He stepped up to the window and looked outside. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary, but he felt his instincts silently warn of danger. Bugger. Rachel should never had come over with David, they hadn't been bloody thinking..

"You take David home, I'll take the kids to my place for now."

"Yeah," she agreed, and leaned forward and kissed him firmly. "Be bloody careful, Frank. You know.."

"I know," he replied, walking her and David to the door. "See you, buddy."

"See you, Frank," the boy replied, waving.

He watched the two walk over to the car, scanning the area. It seemed to be a normal morning, but the feeling of danger didn't go away. He had been a cop too long not to pay attention to it. That feeling often saved your life.

He waited until Rachel and David were well away, before turning to Alex and Mick, who still had wet hair having been in the middle of a shower.

"Let's go kids," he announced, a hand ready on his gun. They emerged carefully, glancing around and jumping at every sound. As they were about to reach the car, Mick had a terrible thought.

"Frank! These guys used bombs!" he called out.

Frank stopped dead in his tracks just before he reached the car, his eyes widening.

"Aw, shit.." he began, but the rest of the sentence drowned in the roar of flames as the car shot up in the air and the explosion propelled them all off the ground.

II

At noon, Jeff Hawker nearly had the second heart attack of the day. A car bomb.. Like they didn't have enough troubles already. This was definitely not a good day

Walking through the hallway, he finally reached the hospital room where Rachel was fussing over Frank, while David was watching. The nurse must have wandered off.

"He's fine, thanks to a thick skull," Rachel informed Jeff, patting Frank lightly on the head.

"Come David, let's see if we can find some ice cream, yeah?" she suggested and her son smiled. The two walked out, leaving Jeff and Frank to stare at each other.

"Alex and Mick are fine, Alex had a sprained ankle, but nothing serious," Frank said, groaning a bit as he felt the swelling on his head.

"Damn lucky."

"Damn right," Jack added, walking in. "Julian Erskin was at the Opera House. He apparently was rescued, but strangely enough, his colleagues haven't talked to him since except over the phone. One of his friends thought he had a cold, because his voice sounded funny. And weirdest of all.." he handed Jeff a photograph

"That's Roger Jackson, he's the brother of the leader. Now he was reported dead, his body found burned, but no DNA testing have been done yet. There's too many bodies.."

"Julian and Roger look like each other," Frank was thinking quickly, connecting the dots. "He does a switch, then applies for another service because he knows his colleagues will know he's not Julian. He probably starts to plan a great escape for his brother or something."

"But realises Mick and Alex who were there, might recognise him," Jeff concluded. "I'll get in touch with the higher powers to track him down."

Walking out, he left Frank and Jack to look uncomfortably at each other.

"How's Rachel?" Jack finally asked.

"Good, good."

"Excellent."

"Yeah."

Silence ensued. Shifting a bit, Jack wondered what the hell to say. He wanted to ask if Rachel had even spoken of him during the past year, but he didn't know quite how to phrase it. He wasn't even sure Frank would reply.

"Hey Jack," came the soft voice of Rachel, and Jack turned to see her standing in the doorway, David by her side. Mother and son, both so beautiful to look at it pained him. He should be the one they were smiling at instead of Frank.

"Yeah, so I better.." he muttered, brushing past and trying not to notice her smell. God.. She had always smelled good.

"Go talk to him," Frank mouthed to Rachel, who stood undecided in the doorway. "Hey David, wanna feel the enormous lump on my head?"

"Eww!" David exclaimed, but walked exited over anyway. "Maybe you're growing a second head!"

"Wouldn't that be cool?"

Throwing a look at the two, Rachel smiled softly, then ran after Jack down the corridor. Frank was right, she had to talk to Jack. For the sake of all of them.

"Jack!"

He slowed down somewhat, but didn't look at her as she walked up to him.

"I've got the point, all right," he muttered, and kept on walking. He should have known that wouldn't discourage her though. She was just as stubborn as him.

"No, you haven't, Jack. You're so full of self-pity and blame and.. You pushed me away after the stabbing. You were so.. So.." she waved her arms. "Damn angry at yourself you weren't there, you know?"

"It was my bloody fault!"

Her face softened. "Jack.. It just happened. I didn't blame you, but you never asked me. You just assumed I wouldn't forgive you because you couldn't. You added to the pain, and I couldn't carry anymore."

"Did you ever love me?"

"Yes," she whispered. He finally stopped walking, looking down at her with a heartbroken look on his face. She wished she could take it away, but it was her that was the cause of it and it was too late to change now.

Reaching out, she put a hand on his cheek. "I'm sorry."

"Yeah."

And she kissed him, just a brief brush of her lips before she headed back down the corridor. Jack watched her go, as he had the last time, but this time at least he knew.

And that made it so much easier and so much harder to let her go.

II

Julian Erskin, or more correctly, Roger Jackson, had vanished in thin air. Everyone was looking for him, yet no one could find him. He could be anywhere.

It wasn't a very comforting thought to Mick. He and Alex were in danger as long as the guy was out there. And they wouldn't have a moment to themselves. There were police officers outside the hospital room, and Jack was lurking around somewhere too.

Dropping down on the bed, Mick put his head in Alex's lap and looked up at her. She looked a bit pale, which wasn't too surprising considering someone had just tried to blow them up.

"We're not going to get a bloody moment to ourselves," he complained. "We're stuck in this bloody hospital till Jeff says otherwise."

"I know," she muttered, stroking his cheek. "He's just being protective, you know. We could have been killed."

"Again. What a week.."

"Tell me about it.."

He sat up again to look at her ankle, which had swollen and was probably spotting several types of purple under the ice pack gently bandaged to it.

"Hurt much?" he asked, looking at it intently.

"A bit."

He leaned forward to kiss the leg just above the bandage. "Better?"

"Mmm.."

"Alex?" he asked seriously, turning to face her. "What are we gonna do about this?"

"This?"

"Us. I mean, do you wanna.. Stay together?"

"I don't know, Michael. There's been so much happening this week, I'm just tired.. But, I do know that I like having you around," she took his hand and squeezed it lightly. "It's good to have something else to think about, you know. Sometimes I'm afraid this will choke me, that I'll never again.."

"Yeah, I know," he muttered. "You think things will ever be normal again?"

"No.. But we'll get by," she said as confidently as she could. They had to, there wasn't much choice after all.

Jack poked his head in, and they both looked up.

"Any sign of him?" Alex asked, of course referring to Roger Jackson. They all knew who 'him' was.

"No," Jack shook his head. "We reckon he knows his cover is blown and has hit the ground. He's probably given up on going after you two now."

"Reassuring.." Mick groaned.

"His cover is blown, he has no reason to get at you two," Jack argued, feeling less than sure himself. This guy wasn't reasonable. He was a bloody terrorist, it was no telling what the guy would do. Bombing Harbour Bridge.. Mad. Madmen.

Madmen didn't need a reason. And so Jack regarded Mick and Alex with worry in his eyes and tried to feel confident they would all be all right.

II

Tommy did come to pick her up as promised, despite looking like he'd got no sleep at all that night Emma noticed. In a low voice, he told her what had happened and his mood made all too much sense.

"But they're fine right?"

"Yeah, Mick and Alex are at the hospital, Jack's there too keeping an eye on them," Tommy replied, opening the door for her as she slowly made her way in, leaning heavily on the crutches.

"When will this end?" she muttered, easing down on the couch. He looked at her for the longest time before sitting down next to her.

"My family's coming by later," she assured him, as he looked worried.

"Yeah, and you have my phone number, call me whenever," he said and she nodded. George had assured her of the same thing yesterday, and it was.. Nice to know.

"I should go," he said after a while, but made no signs to get up. She took his hand, it just felt natural. He turned to look at her, and slowly, very slowly, he leaned forward and kissed her.

It was soft and very gentle, like he was afraid he could hurt her. She could taste coffee on his lips, rather fresh. Their hands stayed locked as they slowly eased closer on the couch. She had to put his arms around her, he seemed almost terrified of touching her too much.

"It's okay," she whispered, pulling back slightly.

"I can't lose you," he whispered back, stroking her hair and pushing it behind her ear.

"You're not going to."

He looked at her intently, then gave her another gentle kiss and got up. "I really have to go."

"Call me."

"I will," he promised, squeezing her hand one last time. "See you, Em."

"See you," she replied, leaning back against the couch. This was even more complicated than her relationship with Mick had been. Couldn't she for once just find something simple? A good-looking, decent, nice guy without a major trauma that she liked and liked her? Was it really too much to ask?

Sighing, she stared up at the ceiling. She wasn't really frustrated with Tommy. It was just an excuse not to think about what was really wrong.

There were so many people that were gone forever. Tayler, Matt, Gavin.. Sometimes she wouldn't think about it for a few minutes, and it would seem so unreal that anyone would bomb Sydney. She'd almost convince herself it was just something crazy she had dreamed, when something would remind her it was true.

Terrorists had attacked Sydney, and no amount of wishful thinking or attempts to forget would change the facts.

II

They waited and waited and waited, tension mounting as time passed and nothing happened. So much had been going on the last days that just waiting seemed.. Strange. Mick could feel something throb impatiently in his blood, he wanted to go out there and find this terrorist bastard, but he couldn't. That was a Special Force task now, Jeff had warned.

They were finally allowed to leave the hospital, and went for Frank's. It was a bloody mess , so they had something to occupy their time with - cleaning. Alex got away, due to her ankle injury and just watched Frank and Mick groan as endless amounts of bottles were carried out. Bottles from another age, it would seem, she couldn't believe it had just been a few days ago Frank and Rachel had come back, they'd all been happy and..

Similar thoughts seemed to occur to Frank and Mick too, they looked rather gloom. Rachel and David stopped by and managed to lift the mood somewhat. But David seemed sad, and they all ended up feeling even worse.

The kid had lost his father, and nothing would bring him back.

Eventually Rachel and David headed off to meet Jonathon's mother. The old woman still seemed to blame Rachel, but David was her grandson. Frank hoped the meeting wouldn't be too nasty, or he would have to have a serious talk with that woman. No one was mean to Rachel while he was still around.

Jack came and went some time later with information on how the chase was going, but it was never good news. Roger Jackson had seemingly vanished from the face of the Earth.

It was a bloody long wait, seconds ticking by like minutes, minutes mounting up like hours.

And when the house was finally clean, it was nothing to do but wait.

"Don't pace, Michael, you're driving me nuts," Alex complained as Mick took his fifth lap around the living room. He gave her a glance, then dropped down on the couch next to her.

Frank stood in the doorway and wished he'd had the foresight to buy some beers. Waiting really wasn't his strongest side, and it seemed idiotic to just sit here. Yet he had a distinct feeling they were waiting for something. Something was going to happen, but what?

They were waiting – Roger Jackson probably wasn't. What could the guy be up to?

"You think they'll find him?" Alex asked, relaxing her hurt foot on Mick's lap. The painkillers were starting to wear off and a numb pain was beginning to spread. She grimaced; it was going to be a long day. It seemed to snail on by.

"Yeah.. Where can he go?" Mick replied.

"I don't think he wants to go anywhere," Frank shot in. He was staring distantly out the window. "He's not done yet."

II

Frank was right.

Walking down the dark corridor, Roger Jackson glanced over his shoulder. No one had followed him, no one even suspected. They were too busy thinking he would run and watching the airports and train stations to even consider he would strike back. Idiots. They didn't understand.

Freedom fighters never ran. The media had called him a terrorist, but they didn't understand either. They believed the propaganda of the government. Roger knew better, he had seen the truth. He and Dayton would make them all see in the end. What were a few thousand lives sacrificed to free millions after all?

He couldn't hear the voice of his conscience anymore wailing about his responsibility for some many dead. It had been a long time since he listened. But a small, small part of him regretted the loss.

Unfortunately, it was a too small part of him to matter any more. The regret was not heartfelt. His heart had died a long time ago, so slowly he hadn't noticed. He lived for the words now, words he was convinced were right. The words would save the world, and he would become know as a hero.

Heroes did what was necessary.

And this time, a message needed to be sent. If Dayton weren't released, it would be havoc on Sydney for conspiring with the leaders of America. Reaching into his backpack, he pulled out the bomb.

It was of course rather unfortunate to bomb a hospital, but it was the only way to make them see. They had to understand. It was a war, people died in wars. It wasn't his fault they were on the wrong side.

It wasn't his fault he had to kill Sarah. She could have talked, he had to make sure. She had pledged her life to his battle, she would have understood. It didn't matter that he thought he could have loved her. In war, you lose what you love. You have to be prepared to give up everything.

Putting the bomb down, he looked at intently for a few seconds. His conscience and brain had one last battle before he lifted his hand and prepared to set the timer.

Conscience was dead.

Walking away, he felt nothing.


	8. Chapter Eight

Chapter Eight

Darkness had begun to fall. It had filled up quietly as the sun vanished, pushing away the daylight. The moon grew clearer, showing its full, white face. The stars began to come into view too, one by one.

Friday evening. But nothing near normal. Just a week ago, it had been a Friday like all the others, but Fridays wouldn't be the same again for a while.

There wasn't much reason to party, for one thing. The spirit of Sydney had been broken, but it was not dead. It would rise again, slowly.

Mick and Jack walked into Sydney Hospital and tried not to glare at each other. They were going to visit Helen, and Alex couldn't walk all that well, so it was just the two of them.

Which was why it was rather tense. But Mick was too happy to be finally allowed out of "protective custody" after hours of waiting to care that Jack was about as happy as a sour grape all the way over.

"Nice that you could break free from your partner for a while," Jack commented as they walked up towards the hospital

"Bugger it, Jack," Mick said forcefully, and decided to change the topic. "How's Helen doing?"

"Fine," Jack snapped back, opening the door. Mick rolled his eyes and decided silence was a good thing. They walked down the hallway in silence until they reached Helen's room.

But she wasn't there.

"Must have physiotherapy or something," Jack muttered. "I'll give Jeff a call an find out how the search is going."

He wandered off, leaving Mick to wait for Helen. Waiting again, Mick tried not to pace. He hated waiting. And today had seen too much of it.

Footsteps outside made him look out in the hallway in the hope it was Helen.

It was Julian – no, Roger.

Their eyes met, and Mick recognised him. Not just as the guy who had pretended to be their new diver, but the guy who had knocked down Alex at the Opera House. It was the same amount of anger and madness in those eyes. Finally it made sense, all of it.

They stared at each other for a few seconds, then Roger turned and ran.

"Hey!" Mick called out, and dialling his phone, he ran after. "He's at Sydney Hospital!"

II

"He's at Sydney Hospital!" Mick puffed into the phone as Frank answered.

"What?"

"Roger – at – Sydney – Hospital!" came the extravagated reply and Frank didn't waste any more time.

"Shit!" he turned to Jeff, who was chatting to Donna by the front desk. "Roger is at Sydney Hospital! Mick's in pursuit, I think."

"What!" Jeff snapped. "Reilly? Why is Roger at the hospital?"

The two looked at each other for a few seconds, then a horrible realisation dawned on them.

"Another bomb!" they both said in unison.

"Mick, get the place evacuated!" Frank shouted into the receiver, but the only reply he got was the dial tone.

"Shit!"

II

Mick had tossed the phone, sprinting to catch up with Roger. Mick wasn't just running for himself, but for Tayler and Gavin and Matt, demanding justice. And for Alex, because this bastard had laid a hand on her.

They were halfway down the hallway when Mick managed to grab a leg and pulled the guy over. They tumbled crashing onto the floor, but Roger managed to swing around and Mick's gun went flying down the hallway.

"I should have killed you back then!" Roger hissed, trying to get a chokehold on Mick. They struggled , just as a clear voice called out.

"Stop!" It was Helen, holding Mick's gun and pointing it squarely at Roger. A few metres down the hall Jack came running.

"You.." she said in a low voice, leaning forward in the wheelchair. Roger swallowed.

So this was the face of evil. Helen looked at it long and hard, and it was all she could do not to shiver. There was fear on his face though, all too human fear.

It would be so easy to pull the trigger. For Gavin, for Matt, for Tayler and fifteen hundred faceless people that were dead because of this man and his accomplices.

Jack had done something similar when Rachel had been stabbed, but he hadn't killed Charlie Driscoll, and she had turned out to be innocent on that account.

But this man.. this man wasn't innocent.

"Helen.." Mick said, getting unsteadily on his feet.

"He's one of them isn't he?" she asked, even if she knew the answer.

"Yeah," Mick replied. "Don't do it, Helen."

She stared at Evil again and he stared back, looking so scared she could almost be convinced he was human. But he wasn't. No human would do what he had done. She would be doing the world favour, ridding it of a monster.

As she hesitated, Roger saw an opening and reached into his jacket. The gun came out just as Helen fired. And fired and fired and fired and fired until the gun had no more bullets and even then, she kept pulling the trigger.

Roger Jackson lay in a pool of blood, dead.

They all stared at his body for a while, then Jack nearly jumped as his phone rang loudly.

"Christey," he breathed. "No, he's dead.. Yeah.. What do you mean, a bomb?" He looked over at Mick, who looked up.

"Did you say bomb?"

Jack waved him off, listening intently to Jeff. "You gotta be kidding me! How long till the bomb squad can get here? Aw, shit.. We might not have that long, damnit.."

Hanging up, he glanced over at Mick.

"This day just keeps on getting better."

II

Alex limped to Rachel's car, silently cursing the ground for being so rocky. She had just begun to think nothing would happen, that she would go insane while waiting, when… Boom!

"Was that all Frank said?" she complained to Rachel, who was holding the door.

"Just that Roger was at the hospital and Mick had spotted him."

"Bloody hell," Alex cursed, nearly tripping over. God, her foot hurt. But it was nothing compared to the painful throbbing of her heart. If something happened to Mick.. No, nothing would happen to Mick, fate couldn't be that cruel.. Could it?

She managed to get into the car, clenching her teeth as she hit the bad foot against the side of the car. God, when she saw Mick she was gonna hit him hard. He was a bloody fool, always playing hero.

Rachel started up the car, glancing over to her passenger. The worry was visible, and she understood it a bit too well. If it would have been Frank, it would have been her who had barely been able to breathe.

She loved him. She had loved him for a long time, even while she had loved Jack. It had been so hard to admit, and now it seemed too obvious. What had she been afraid of?

Glancing over at Alex, she found her answer. The same as Alex was afraid of; giving in to the feelings would make it so much harder to lose the person you loved. And in their line of work, it was a constant danger.

She had lost Jack, even if he was still alive.

Pushing the pedal harder she decided that Alex would not go through that.

II

The hospital was being evacuated as Mick and Jack hurried down the stairs.

"What makes you think the bomb is in the basement?" Mick asked, jogging after Jack.

"That's where I'd put it."

"You spend too much time thinking like the crooks, Jack."

They finally reached the end of the stairs and glanced around. The basement was dark, but the low ominous ticking led them straight to the source.

"Oh shit," Jack cursed, staring at the numbers. 2:56.

"That's a hell of a bomb," Mick muttered. "How do we disarm it?"

"You're asking me?"

"Yes."

They exchanged a long look.

"I think we're supposed to cut a wire," Mick suggested, looking at the bomb. Problem was, it were four wires. Green, blue, read and white.

"Yeah, which one, genius?"

"Ummm…" Mick stared. "Red? No.. Blue.. Eh.. Wait, these are Americans right?"

"Yeah, bloody patriots. You don't think they would really follow the colours of their flag?"

"Any better suggestions?"

They thought about that for a second, then stared at the timer. 1:42.

"Green it is," Jack muttered, and prepared to pull it.

"For the record, Jack, I think you're a jerk."

"The feeling is mutual, Reilly."

And closing his eyes, Jack pulled. He didn't dare open them for a few seconds, just waiting. But nothing happened. Cracking one eye open, he looked around. The timer had stopped on 1:27 and the bomb was silent.

"Bugger," Mick said in a low voice, and exhaled. "I thought I was rid of you there for a second."

And he began to laugh. Jack looked at him for a few seconds, then joined in. They laughed and laughed, leaning against the wall for support.

They continued to laugh as they made their way up the stairs.

II

Rachel stepped on the brake hard as they pulled into the hospital parking lot. There were plenty of police cars there already, and she nearly hit one. Even before the car had come to a full stop, Alex had ripped the door open.

It wasn't very hard to spot Jack and Mick though. They were standing just outside and.. Laughing? They must have lost it. As she limped closer, Mick spotted her and the smile he directed at her was just dazzling.

"You are such an idiot!" she declared, and Jack smirked.

"You too, Jack," she added, sending them both an angry glare. They stopped laughing, but were still smiling rather silly. She settled her glance on Mick, who squirmed. Jack just kept on grinning.

"Impressive, Christey," Rachel remarked, walking over with her arms crossed. He gave her the first true smile she had got from him in a year

"Ya reckon?"

"Yeah.. Helen okay?"

"I don't know.. Let's find out," Jack suggested and Rachel followed him towards the area where some ambulances had gathered and Helen was explaining what had happened to Jeff, Frank, Tommy and George.

"Roger Jackson is dead," Mick informed Alex, as Rachel and Jack had walked away. She still looked pretty mad. "Hey, he was here, what was I gonna do?"

"If you scare me like that one more time.."

"You were scared?" he couldn't help but ask. She looked at him furiously, then lifted her bad leg and kicked him in the shin.

"Oww!" they both complained.

"What did you do that for?"

"Because you scared me!" she shot back. "Damnit Michael, I don't wanna bloody lose you, I bloody care about you and.."

"I'm sorry," he muttered. "How's your ankle?"

"Bloody painful. Your leg is bloody hard." She was still mad he could tell, but she was beginning to calm down.

"Don't go kicking it, then."

"Don't make me want to."

Finally she smiled, and allowed him to put an arm around her. "How about I give you a lift home to make up for it?"

"Oh, you're gonna have to work harder than that, Michael."

"You're a hard woman to please, Alex."

"I'm quite sure you'll think of something."

He grinned, and they slowly began to make their way towards his car. Halfway there, Mick decided she was walking too slow and swept her up to carry her the rest of the way.

Rachel looked up from Helen's story to hear Alex yelp as Mick ignored all protests and was carrying her. It was hard not to smile, and even Jack seemed amused. Helen too, saw the commotion, but her smile was only on the inside.

She felt… She wasn't sure how she felt.

The ruling on Roger Jackson's death would be self-defence. Yet, as she remembered the look in his eyes.. She wondered if she would have shot anyway.

It was a disturbing thought. Was she a killer? She had wanted to kill him so badly. And while she had debated, he had pulled a gun on her and made the choice for her.

Roger Jackson was dead, and she wasn't officially a killer. That didn't make it any better.

She had wanted to kill him. But would she have? Problem was, she didn't know. A week ago she would have been sure she could never kill anyone in cold blood, but a week ago..

Another time, another her. It was hard to believe a week could change so much.

"You did well, Helen," Jeff said softly. She didn't reply, just gazed up at the sky.

'Forgive me, Tayler,' she thought, not realising it was herself she needed forgiveness from.

II

"Long week," Frank commented, as he and Rachel got into the car. She nodded as she put her seatbelt on, throwing one last look at Jack, who had decided to stay with Helen for a while.

"Bloody long week," she agreed, glancing over at him. "Not quite the homecoming I had pictured."

"Yeah.. You and Jack gonna be okay?"

"Since when do you care about Jack?"

"I don't," he replied honestly, "But I care about you, and if that means I'll have to tolerate Jack, then I will."

A faint smile touched her lips. "You're just saying that so you can get some."

"Damn right." He grinned, lifting an eyebrow suggestively. "Seriously, Rach, I mean, I want you to be happy. And if you want Jack in your life in some way.."

"As a colleague, Frank. He's a great cop, and maybe one day we might even be friends.. But nothing more."

"I'd be a liar if I said I wasn't happy about that," he replied. "I just.. Want to know that you're happy where you are."

"Nowhere I'd rather be, Francis. Even with this mess."

He felt something warm in his chest, a sort of quiet happiness that comes when you have survived the crap the world has thrown at you, and managed to find a lump of gold in between it all.

"Why didn't you tell me this a year ago?"

"What, and have you walk around with that silly smirk of your ever day?" she joked, then looked serious. "I couldn't, I wasn't ready yet. There was so much pain after.." She didn't finish the sentence, didn't need to. He took her hand, wishing he could take away the pain from that stabbing. She'd always have scares from it, not just on the outside.

Damn that bastard who had stabbed her! Frank understood how Jack had reacted all too well he would have done the same and gone after the bastard who'd done it.

But that wasn't what Rachel needed. Revenge wouldn't help her heal. That he reckoned, had been Jack's mistake. And however much he felt kind sorry for the guy, Frank couldn't say he regretted the way it had turned out.

"I know, Rach.." he said softly, and let go of her hand.

She smiled at him as she started the car, and even if the smile had a touch of sadness in it, it was a genuine smile. "Let's pick up David from dad's and go home."

Home. It wasn't the Footloose, or even his house or Rach's. It wasn't Sydney or Venezuela or even the water police headquarters for that matter. Home was wherever she was.

And it felt damned good to be home, finally.

II

Jack had finally buggered off, leaving Helen alone with her thoughts. She was staring idly at the sky, wondering what the hell to with her life when a very familiar voice said her name softly.

"Helen?"

"Bruce?" She looked up confused, he was the last person she expected right then. For a second she thought she was seeing things, but it was indeed Bruce Johnson, her brother and Tayler's father.

It was him, looking tired and older than the last time they had met. And strangest of all, tears were brimming in his eyes. He didn't look angry as she would have expected, just sad.

"I'm sorry," she muttered with her eyes downcast, not daring to look at him He had to hate her. She hadn't even dared to call him, knowing he would just hang up. She had lived and Tayler had died. He had to blame her.

"No, I'm sorry," he whispered and bent down, catching her glance. "I thought we had lost you too and.. I couldn't breathe. I'm so sorry.. about everything."

Astonished, she took his hand. "Bruce.."

"You'll be at the funeral?"

"Of course," she assured him. He actually asked her.. She had to fight back tears, but this time they were for another reason.

"I think.. She would have wanted.." he bit his bottom lip. "I don't know if she ever knew.. That I was proud of her."

"Of course she knew."

"I didn't agree with her choice, and I never encouraged her at all."

"She knew, Bruce."

They looked at each other for a long time, both on the verge of crying.

"I loved her like a daughter," Helen whispered finally. He nodded, smiling faintly.

"She was closer to you than anyone else. I think.. Maybe you should speak at the funeral."

She didn't know what to answer, and he didn't seem to expect a reply, resting his head in her lap. His body shook slightly as he cried, and she could do nothing but slowly stroke his hair. If Tayler was watching from somewhere beyond, she would be smiling.

II

It was over in a way, Jeff realised, as he stood in his office, staring out over the Harbour. The lights had been turned off and the building was being emptied.

"Night, boss!" Donna called out, but he turned and called after her.

"Janevski.. I just wanted to say that you've done very well this week."

She seemed to light up slightly. "Thanks."

"Sorry I've yelled so much," he continued. "You're doing well, Donna."

He could practically see her swell with pride.

"Thank you, sir."

"Good night, Donna."

"Good night," she smiled, and disappeared down the stairs. He listened to her walk out, leaving only him in the building.

He didn't want to go home. He didn't want to go to bed, and have a weekend off. He didn't want to wake up and think about the dead. He didn't want to feel alone.

Through the crisis, they had all been in it together. He hadn't felt so close to the people working under him.. Ever. And yet, he'd been alone. It was a funny feeling that. They'd all been there, yet he'd been alone.

It wasn't just the job. He'd distanced himself from them, because.. Well, at the end of the day he was still their boss.

He wasn't sure he could be any more. He was tired, bloody tired. He'd been in this office so long, and it was time to move on.

He wanted to move on, yet he wanted to stay in this office forever. It was such a large part of him, had been for many years. Good years, sad years, eventful years, years that seemed to stretch on forever and yet had passed in the blink of an eye.

The office had become him.

So many people had come and gone. Terry, Fiona, Tayler, Tommy, Gavin, Frank, Rachel, Jack, Mick, Alex, Lance, Matt, Helen..

And Clarke Webb. Walking over to the desk and reaching into a drawer, Jeff took out the dollar bill. Webb had given it to him when Jeff had become Chief Inspector, saying "the buck stops here."

And it had, Jeff thought to himself. Or at least he wanted to live in the illusion that it had. He had been a good boss, hadn't he?

Sure, he'd made mistakes, some worse than others, but all in all he'd like to think they had been fixable. He and Helen had run a good ship, he had to believe that.

Looking at the one dollar bill, he smiled briefly. Yeah, it was time to move on. Not because he wasn't a good boss, but because he wanted to do like Frank, follow a dream.

Frank had come back at peace with himself, even in the whole mess. Jeff envied him, in a strange way. He and Frank had had their differences, and when Frank had wanted to just sail away, Jeff had thought him crazy.

It was crazy, but Frank had seen the truth of it. Go for what you want before life rips it away. If this Tuesday had showed the anything, it was how fast anything could come tumbling down.

But the dream hadn't died.

Africa. The thought made Jeff smile. He'd always wanted to see Africa, write about it, and live it.. Be there, maybe almost get trampled by a rhino or be a few metres from a lion. He wanted to go there just to say that he had, he'd dared followed a dream.

Africa it was. He might even manage to talk one of his kids into coming with him. A grand adventure.

Putting the buck down on the desk, he threw one last look at the Harbour. It still was an amazing view, even without the bridge. It just seemed.. Emptier. "Eternity" the bridge had been lit up with fireworks during the millennium change. He smiled as he remembered.

Eternity it was, even without the bridge. Things would last forever if you let them.

He turned off the light and walked out.


	9. Chapter Nine

Chapter Nine

Rachel turned the light on as they walked in. David was at her dad's, because of the whole bomb mess, and the house was empty and quiet. So quiet she could hear her own breathing and Frank's at the back of her neck.

He followed her like a shadow into the living room, both feeling no particular urge to talk. It was the good thing about Frank, she didn't feel forced to talk around him. Silence could be a good thing.

He pulled off his jacket without saying anything, looking at her in a way that made her feel naked already. The tie went next, then he looked at her expectantly. Slowly, she lifted her arms and the shirt fell to the floor.

Walking over to her, he let a hand slide over her skin, touching every exposed millimetre. She shivered slightly, as he pulled down the straps of her bra.

"Rach," he muttered, in reverence as she unhooked the bra herself, and he looked down at her perfect breasts. And they really were perfect, he had seen enough breasts to know that. In fact, all of her was perfect.

She tilted her head as he leaned down to kiss her, the familiar sensation of heat beginning to crawl up from his stomach. He never got tired of kissing her, and making her moan in that very cute way at the back of her throat.

Her let his hands wander to her back, pushing her even closer. Her hands had wandered to open his shirt, wandering downwards and nearly causing him to yelp as she reached her target.

She chuckled into his mouth, but he got his revenge. Breaking off the kiss, he settled on one of her breasts, and this time it was her who yelped.

Closing her eyes, she let him slowly drive her nuts, kissing and stroking and even nibbling until she dug her fingers into his back.

"Frank.." she half warned, half begged. Glancing around the room he decided, damn it, the table would do.

Lifting her up, he sat her on the table and tore her pants off in one fluid motion. She watched through half closed eyelids as he removed his own clothes, then pulled her body next to his.

Skin against skin was the sweetest sensation, and he sighed softly. She was smiling, a finger tracing the outlines of the scar from when he had been shot and she had held him in her arms, praying he wouldn't die. It seemed so long ago now, but the scar was still there. One of many, he'd led a hard life.

She bent down and kissed it, beginning a trail of kisses upwards, lingering at the hollow of his neck. He was barely breathing, just looking at her in the way that always made her feel so exposed.

"Frank?"

"Hmm?"

"What do you see when you look at me like that?"

"You, Rachel. Just you."

She wasn't sure if his words scared her or pleased her. He was so.. Close to her it frightened her sometimes. She wasn't sure how to deal with it.

"And," he added, with a wink. "A damn good screw."

She had to laugh. That she could deal with, Frank's terrible, terrible sense of humour.

"Frank, one more joke and I'm kicking you out."

"Seriously?"

"Nah," she whispered and kissed him again. As their mouths locked Frank lifted her up again, swinging her around. She wasn't sure when they dropped to the floor, all she was aware of was Frank, around her and inside her, and the warmth spread from her stomach all the way to her fingertips.

She felt alive, in every fibre of her being, like she was flying and falling at once. The warmth kept building and building, and it was painful and wonderful beyond words. She bit into his shoulder not to cry out as she reached the top and her body screamed in silent delight.

And for a second, she was up there with the stars.

II

The stars were twinkling down as a car pulled up in front of Alex St Clare's house and two silhouettes emerged, barely visible in the darkness.

Despite Alex's protests, Mick insisted on carrying all the way inside, into the house, past the kitchen (still with dishes in the sink) and all the way to the bedroom and easing her down on the bed. Even then he didn't let go, looking at her with a look of.. Well, lust.

"I'm still mad at you," she informed him, but grabbing hold of his tie, she brought his face down to hers and kissed him hard. Panting, they broke the kiss long enough for Mick to manage to tear his tie off and begin unbuttoning his shirt. Alex just watched him, a small grin beginning to spread on her face.

As he threw his shirt away, Alex grabbed his tie. Before he noticed, she silenced him with another kiss. He didn't protest when she lifted his arms, but when he realised she was tying his hands to the bed head, he began to protest.

"Hey, Alex.."

"Shut up, Michael," she whispered by his ear, her breath hot against his skin. He stopped trying to wriggle free, feeling strangely exited. She finished the knot as she straddled him, careful with her sprained ankle. He looked up at her, breathing slightly heavy.

God, she was beautiful.

Never letting go of his gaze, she tore her top off, and he strained to reach out and touch her.. But of course he couldn't.

She laughed softly at his frustrated groan and continued to zip her skirt down. He was practically eating her up with his eyes. She let her own hands travel over his chest, the soft skin, the firm muscles..

Leaning down, she kissed him, their tongues dancing until they were out of breath, and then they only broke it off long enough to get fresh air to the protesting lunges.

Alex felt Mick's chest rise and fall under her hands, and she brushed her breasts against his upper body to tease him even more. He made a guttural sound in the back of his throat, wanting so badly to touch her.

She broke of the kiss and slowly removed her underwear. He was struggling slightly to get free now, but he wasn't gonna get off that easily.

She slid back slightly to tug his pants off, feeling a bit impatient herself. Letting her hands wander, she explored every wonderful bit of his body.

"Alex..!" he pleaded as she began a trail of wet kisses from his neck and downwards.

"Not yet, Michael," she muttered. He had to close his eyes, having her so close and not be able to touch her was just so frustrating, yet wonderful. He could smell the perfume she wore.. Something that reminded him of the sea.

Her skin was so warm against his. He just about thought he'd burst when she finally lifted her head up to his again and let him kiss her, but just for a few seconds.

Rubbing her body against his, she saw his eyes were clouding over with desire and something desperate had entered his voice.

"Please, please, Alex, please.."

She finally did what he wanted, and as their bodies joined, he let his head back and whispered her name in awe. It felt so good, yet it wasn't enough though, she wanted him closer and now she wanted him to touch her.

She finally untied the knot, struggling a bit before she managed. As soon as he was free, he pulled her upper body to his in a matter of seconds, kissing her neck and shoulders and breasts, all the while whispering her name.

It was like a mantra, each time he said it, his body tensed more and more and she urged him on until he couldn't stand it anymore and he crushed her mouth in a kiss as he flew.. And her soft body greeted him as he came tumbling back.

II

Jack walked into the Cutter bar and was greeted by a few smiles from Donna, George and Lance in the corner. Fiona and Terry were there too, to his great surprise. He had never really known them, and they seemed a little out of place at first.

But after a few beers he'd forgotten such thoughts.

It was a rather sad yet good experience, chatting and venting about the events of the last week. It still felt unreal, even if the shock had begun to wear off. But it was still hard to phantom and come to terms with.

The city had bled, and the wound was still there, gaping. Not just in the sense that the bridge was gone, but the fact that so many people were died. Everyone was affected by this tragedy. Everyone was scarred.

But all the pain brought people closer. They all felt the pain, an unifying force. Maybe something good would come of it.

He doubted it, but then again, he was old and rather distrustful.

Sophie on the other hand, was young and hopeful, and for her sake, he wanted to think good would come of it.

His daughter wanted to save the world. He toasted slightly to her, and smiled at Donna when she asked him if he was okay. For once, he wasn't annoyed. Donna too, had a big heart and thought she could make the world better by being nice, and he really shouldn't be so mean to her.

Terry told a few stories of Frank and Rachel's early escapades, and Jack found he didn't mind.. Well, not too much anyway.

His phone rang. Annoyed, he barked into the phone. "Christey."

"Hey Jack.."

"Sophie," he said fondly, any anger he felt vanishing quickly.

"You busy?"

"No, no," he assured her, so glad to hear her voice his whole face lit up and the rest of the gang looked at him in astonishment. He seemed twenty years younger.

"I thought I might come over," she muttered. "Dad's away, and I just.."

"Yeah, yeah, I'll be home in a while," he replied, getting up even as he said it and waving to the others.

All in all, he probably wasn't too bad off.

II

There was a knock on the door, and Emma made her slow way to open the door. It took two breaks to take a breather before she got there.

It was Tommy, looking rather serious.

"Hey," she greeted him, opening the door to allow him to enter. He walked in rather hesitantly, looking worried as she faltered a bit when walking.

"It's okay," she assured him. "It's not really that painful."

He looked doubtful, but didn't say anything. His silence was getting on her nerves, and turned to face him.

Before she could think, she leaned forward and kissed him. He pulled back, shaking his head slightly.

"Don't.."

"Hush," she muttered, putting a hand against his lips. He still shook his head, but he kissed her fingertips nevertheless.

"Just kiss me, Tommy."

He looked at her for the longest time before he finally pulled her close. Stroking her cheek, he kissed her, gradually deepening it. She flung her arms around his neck, not caring if her body hurt from the effort of standing.

He moved on to kiss her neck, knowing he shouldn't, knowing he couldn't stay.. And yet, he couldn't stop himself.

He thought he might love her.

She looked at him, her slightly parted, and he just couldn't resist kissing her. And again.

Bending down, he lifted up her shirt, and she lifted up her arms, allowing him to pull it off her. As the soft flesh of her stomach became exposed, he froze.

There, a nasty scar ran, still with stitches, a reminder that she had survived just barely

He leaned his head against the scar, kissing it, his hands making gentle circles on her hips.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. "Em.."

She closed her eyes, focusing on remaining standing as he kissed every millimetres of her scar, and then continued upwards.

Her body now shook with the effort, and he lifted her up and they fell onto the couch. He was careful and so gentle, his touches barely touches at all.

"I won't break," she whispered, putting his hands on her hips. He swallowed, knowing he should stop this, but damnit..

He couldn't stop himself, especially when Emma tugged his shirt off, and looked at him like he was the most desirable man in the world.

And as more of their clothing made it to the floor, he felt more happy and disgusted with himself than ever before.

II

Friday had turned to Saturday and the moon reigned supreme, as Sydney lay awake. It was hard to sleep these days, when nightmares were reality and reality was a nightmare.

But it was quiet this night, as it was all finally over. Dayton was jailed, his brother dead, and no more terrorists to cause havoc in Australia.. For now, it was over.

The hardest part was yet to come.

Regaining faith.

It would take a long time. It was the first time Australia had suffered such a blow, and many talked of it saying Australia had "lost its innocence".

Truth was, it had never been innocent. The people just liked to think so, because an innocent world was easier to cope with.

The illusion was gone. And people would have to get on without it, or create a new one.

Feeling no need for sleep, Alex and Mick were kissing slowly, their bodies entwined. Outside, the grasshoppers were making their presence known, almost making music. Otherwise it was quiet, as if the city itself was silent in mourning.

No cars, no music, nothing. Just silence.

"It's strange," Alex whispered, as she pulled back slightly. "So silent. It's never been this silent before."

"I think everyone has finally understood the tragedy," he whispered back, not wanting to talk too loud. It seemed.. Inappropriate. Like shouting in a church.

"Adrenaline has worn off."

"Yeah.." he looked at her intently. "What are we gonna do, Alex? I don't want to push you, but I need to know if this it's more than just a thing. If it is, I have to go now before I can't walk away from you."

She was silent a while. "It's gonna be messy, you know? Cops and cops.."

"Frank and Rachel did it."

"Frank and Rachel love each other."

"Yeah.. Is that such a bad thing?" he asked and there was an expression in his eyes she couldn't quite read.

"Noo.." she hesitated. "But they're not partners anymore. We are."

"I know. And I don't want to lose you as a partner. But if it comes down to a choice between this.. and work.. I want you Alex, and if I have to give up working at the water police.. I will. How about you?"

She hesitated again, as he tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, looking hopeful and so adorable it warmed even her cold, grieving heart.

"If you haven't realised I want you by now, Michael, you're a lousy cop."

He smiled, a devious little smile. "Yeah, I've picked up that much."

"I can't promise you anything.. But we'll see how it goes, yeah?"

He nodded eagerly, clasping her hand in his.

"I just want one chance with you, Alex. That's all I'm asking for."

"I think.." she grinned, tapping him on the nose. "That after all the hard work you've gone through chasing me.. You deserve a chance."

They both laughed. "Impressed were ya?"

"Just a tiny bit," she indicated with her fingers just how little, and he giggled. It wasn't that it was funny, it was more that it was good to laugh. The last days hadn't exactly given much opportunity to laugh about anything.

She leaned against his shoulder as the laughter died away and she smiled sadly. There was still so much to grieve for.. But at least now she knew it wouldn't choke her. There was laughter and happiness to be felt still.

II

Emma had drifted off to sleep as Tommy quietly got up and gathered his clothes.

He felt like a shit. Not only had he been unable to tell her he was leaving, he'd been unable to keep his hands off her too. He was a shit, no worse than a shit. Even Gavin would have kicked his ass for this.

Emma groaned slightly in her sleep, rolling over to her side. He walked over, crunching down to look at her peaceful, sleeping face.

She was so beautiful. He couldn't help but reach out to touch her face.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. "I want to stay.."

Oh, how he wanted to stay and make her happy, make her smile like he had earlier that evening, make the pain go away.

But how could he when he was pain? Gavin was dead, and even thinking about it tore into his flesh and stabbed his heart. In a way, it was his fault. He had been so concerned about Emma, willing her to live..

And now, every time he looked at her, he hated himself. Because a small, small part of him resented her for living and Gavin dying.

It wasn't her fault, it was his fault, but still..

"I'm sorry," he whispered again and brushed one last kiss against her lips. Getting up, he pulled his jacket on and began to walk away.

"Tommy?" came Emma's voice, sounding a bit frightened. He stopped in the doorway, but didn't turn around

"Where are you going?"

He bit his bottom lip, wanting so badly to turn around and sweep her in his arms again, pretending there was nothing that could tear them apart.

"Brisbane."

"What?" she muttered. "Tommy, I thought.." The sentence hung in the air, almost accusing, pointing a finger at him. God, he was a prick. She was in her full right to hate him, he thought bitterly, and a part of him actually wanted her to hate him.

He deserved it.

"I'm sorry."

"You're SORRY!" she hissed, sounding more angry than she had intended to. He couldn't just leave her, he couldn't.. He had just got back in her life. She had just begun to think they might have a shot at happiness, and now he was leaving!

He still didn't turn around, shoulders slumped, and head hanging.

"I have to.." he swallowed. "I love you."

The admission came so suddenly she was momentarily speechless. And even as she felt a brief jolt of happiness from her heart to the rest of her body, fear arose. He was leaving her, he wouldn't have said it otherwise.

"See ya.." he whispered sadly and walked out before she could think off anything to say.

After a few steps he had the strongest urge to turn back, every muscle in his body screamed out in pain. He wanted to stay. He had to go.

"Tommy?" she called out after him. "Tommy! Tommy!"

The soft slam of the door was the only answer she got.

II

The night was cold, and the winds picking up. It wasn't a good night to be outside, but it was beautiful nevertheless. It was crisp and clear and cold, the kind of night that clears your head when you walk in it, realising just how small you were in the grand scheme of things.

And yet how precious life was.

Fifteen hundred people lost forever may not be a big number compared to how many died each day all over the world, but it was damn tragedy nevertheless.

Lost talents, lost dreamers, lost inventers, lost lovers.. Lost human beings.

A few people dead were a tragedy. Fifteen hundred was a catastrophe.

And it wasn't over, not really. So much was yet to be resolved, and many tears were still to be cried as Sydney would, slowly, move on.

There wasn't much else to do.


	10. Chapter Ten - Epilogue

Chapter Ten – Epilogue

Time passed, which basically was its job. The dead were buried and grieved and spoken well off, as traditions were. The terrorists were to stand trail for their crimes, as soon as Australia and America could agree on where and who would be the judges that was.

And the dark clouds in the minds of the people of Sydney began to diminish. There was still grief and anger, but there was smiles and laughter again, and happy occasions came about.

One such occasion was the wedding of Frank Holloway and Rachel Goldstein.

Two months had passed since the bombing of the bridge, and much had changed at the Sydney Water Police.

Jeff had quit, planning a grad trip to Africa. He was setting off after the wedding (couldn't miss that event!), and seemed more happy and relaxed than anyone could remember seeing him before.

Helen had taken a long sick leave, spending time with her family. Relations were still rather strained, but they were all trying. Rumours were that she had met someone in the survivor therapy group, but only Rachel knew the whole story and she wasn't telling.

Jack had got a new job, being part of a security council that the city had set up after the disaster. He was fairly happy, spending a lot of time with Sophie and had even gone on a few dates. So far no luck, but he was hopeful.

Mick and Alex were still sneaking around, even if everyone knew. The new poll was on when they would be caught making out in the Station. No one had won it yet, as Mick and Alex were rather good at the 'sneaking around' business.

George was the new detective permanently on board. He blended in rather nicely, and all the women lusted after him (excluding Alex, who had her own lust-object). He and Mick combined could make any female suspect talk.

Emma had been unapproachable for weeks after Tommy had left. George was the only one she didn't brush off, and the two spent many nights in a quiet corner of the Cutter bar, just chatting.

Donna, the baby of the Station, continued to be nice and a wee bit annoying and everyone loved her for it. She and Lance had become good friends (although nothing more), as well as with Erin, the new diver.

And Rachel and Frank.. Both had returned to the Force. Rachel had got a desk job (and everyone bet she or Helen would be the new Chief Inspector), Frank was on the task force collecting evidence after the bombings. David was doing well, getting through the first month had been the worst. He still woke crying in the night sometimes and would come trotting in to sleep next to his mum and Frank.

On one drunken night, Frank had finally got Rachel to set a date, and so here they were. Getting fricking married.

The whole Station was invited of course, and everyone had come, except Tommy, who seemed to have vanished. Not even Helen had the faintest clue where he was, but she hoped it was somewhere he could exorcise some demons.

It was a fairly gorgeous day, just a few pecks of clouds scattered on the blue sky. The sun was warm and nice, and the wind brought with it the smell of trees and flowers.

The ceremony was a rather complicated mixture of Jewish and Christian traditions. Although trying to avoid the wedding planning, Frank had read up on the Jewish tradition and even had a few chats to a rabbi. (to Frank wedding was a simple concept: show up, say 'I do', get on with the honeymoon). For Rachel, he wanted it done properly though.

He knew it delighted her, even if she complained it was a far too big a fuss. Even David was happy about it, smiling that amazing smile of his more often. He was a wonderful kid, and the whole Station was smouldering him.

He got to guide Alex down the isle, getting several winks from Mick.

Rachel wore a simple, beautiful dress that made Frank attempts to not stare rather pathetic. Truth be told, he wasn't the only one who ogled. Jack too, enjoyed the view even if he felt a small tug at his heart.

The vows and prayers were exchanged in quiet voices. Helen had to dry away a tear as the promises of love 'till death do us part' were exchanged, remembering that sometimes death wasn't that far away.

The breaking of glass and a rather eager kiss sealed the deal.

And even Jack had to admit they were both beaming. And though he felt jealousy flair up, he clapped as enthusiastically as everyone else.

As Rachel walked by, she gave his shoulder a squeeze and smiled sadly. If circumstances had been different, maybe it would have been him walking her down the aisle.

And it was a bittersweet thought.

II

The unofficial reception was actually a barbeque party.

In true Water Police style there was much drinking to celebrate the occasion. Champagne and beer in a happy mix and there was more laughter than there had been for months. It was good to have something truly good to celebrate, after months of agony.

"To Frank and Rachel!" Helen offered as the crowd gathered around. "May they drive each other as nuts as they have driven us!"

A few chuckled as glasses were clinked.

"You always know what to say, Helen" Rachel replied, grinning as Frank put an arm around her possessively.

"Let's sneak away," he whispered in her ear, and she elbowed him.

"Behave, Francis."

He pouted slightly, and she grinned even wider. He was a jerk, but he was her jerk, always had been. And she truly did love him; not the innocent love she had once had for Jonathon, but an older, wiser love that knew no one was perfect.

She knew all of Frank's faults, he couldn't disappoint her. There were no illusions to dispel. Glancing over to Jack, she felt a small stab of.. Regret? Pity? She wasn't quite sure.

Mick had noticed Jack looking a bit blue as well.

"You okay, mate?" Mick asked and walked over to Jack, who was staring into his drink.

"Yeah.."

"She's quite a woman," Mick indicated Rachel, who was spinning her son around and looking more comfortable than Mick could ever remember seeing her.

"So is she," Jack replied, indicating Alex, who was staring at the wedding cake with a rather strained expression. She had been rather crook lately, Mick thought, and it was a bit worrisome.

"Yeah.."

"Hang on to her, eh?" Jack suggested, taking a sip. Mick looked up rather surprised, Jack had never been very positive on the subject before.

"You've had too much to drink, Jack, you're being nice."

"Ah, bugger off Reilly," Jack countered, but with a small smile. They toasted silently, before Mick made his way over to Alex, who was still staring at the cake.

"Hey Alex."

"Hey."

"You okay? You look a bit uncomfortable," he asked, putting a hand on her arm.

"I'm fine," she snapped.

"You don't look so good. Maybe you got the flu or something, it's going around."

"I don't have the bloody flu, Michael," she replied, sounding pretty testy. Something was definitely wrong.

"But you've been sick and.."

"I'm pregnant."

He blinked, then stared, then slowly, a huge grin began to emerge in his face.

"You're pregnant? That's.. I mean, it's mine, isn't it?"

"What, you spend literally every night with me and have the nerve to ask that question?" she lashed out, and kicked him in the shin, as she always did when she was mad at him.

He ignored the pain, instead he took her by the arm and led her to the nearby boatshed and away from the sight of the others. A few glances were sent their way, but he ignored them. As soon as they turned the corner, he pushed her against the wall and kissed her thoroughly.

"I'm still mad at you," she whispered as he broke it off, but there was no anger in her voice.

"I'm sorry, it's just.. Unbelievable," he muttered, staring at her. "You're sure?"

"Yeah, I saw the doctor. I'm seven weeks along," she bit her bottom lip, and he leaned his forehead against hers

"It's a good thing, right?" he asked.

"I think so," she muttered, "I mean, if you think it is."

"Yeah, yeah.." he grinned, and it was the smile that could melt just about any woman. She still didn't have any bloody defence against it.

"We're gonna have to talk about this," she told him. "Seriously. We have to find out what we should do about this."

"Yeah, yeah," he agreed again, still smiling. God, he was cute. And he seemed to be genuinely happy about the pregnancy, which touched her heart.

And it was strange.. She had got pregnant just after the whole tragedy had happened. Could there truly come something could from all that horror?

She glanced over at where the bridge had once been and wondered.

II

Further down the beach, Emma and George had taken a walk, Emma walking barefoot through the waves. She looked thoughtful, George noted, staring at the sky.

"Tommy called me today," she said after a while.

"What did he say?"

"Not much. I think he's abroad somewhere. He asked how I was doing. We talked for a little while. It was.. Good."

She stopped walking, and standing still she looked a bit sad. He wished there was a way he could make her feel better, she really deserved to have something to smile about everyday.

"He's a jerk, you know," he said and walked up to her.

"It would be easier if he were. He left me.."

"Nah," George put an arm around her. "He left his heart."

She smiled despite herself and leaned against his chest, watching the waves. It was simple and easy and good for once to be with a guy.

"Hey Emma?" he muttered, his breath so close it tickled her ear.

"Yeah?" she turned her head to look at him. He was smiling softly, looking so fabulous in the brilliant sunlight she couldn't help herself.

She leaned forward and kissed him, and he didn't protest. Parting his lips, he let her set the pace, gently exploring every inch of his mouth. She kept her eyes open, taking in the look of pure bliss on his face.

Yeah, it was simple.

She pulled back after a while, and he grinned widely.

"Does this mean I can finally ask you out on a date?"

"You better," she replied. They stared seriously at each other for a moment.

"Are you sure?" he asked, and she could have kissed him for being so considerate. In fact, she decided, she was going to.

And he had his answer.

II

Finishing her conversation with Jeff, Helen walked over to Rachel, and the two friends fell into an embrace.

"I'm so happy for you," Helen whispered, "I know you two will be good for each other."

"Thanks, Helen. I hope you.."

"Yeah.. I'm gonna be happy for her, you know? She would have wanted that," Helen smiled, thinking of Tayler. She would have wanted that.

"I know."

"If you ever need a babysitter for David so you and Frank can have some privacy, I'm a phone call away.."

"Thanks," Rachel laughed, "I'm sure Frank will take you up on that."

And Helen laughed too, feeling strangely liberated at long last.

She still awoke in the middle of night from nightmares, but she was getting better at dealing with them. Her therapist said they were a good thing. Her mind was healing, dealing with the events that had occurred in its own time.

Glancing out over the sea, she watched the dawning sun light up the waters. It was a beautiful scene, and it felt more like Tayler's grave than the actual grave did. A beautiful grave of sorts, the waves always singing a lullaby.

Tayler's lullaby.

II

Evening came, and people began to slip away as the barbeque was cleaned up. David went with Felix, to give the newlyweds some privacy. He looked happy as they drove away, Rachel noticed, waving cheerfully.

He missed his father, yeah, but he had the courage of a lion. He was going to be all right, they were all going to be all right. She could finally believe that.

Emma and George vanished together, holding hands and being terribly obvious. They didn't care, grinning wildly and foot flirting. The new couple of the water police, no doubt about it.

The rest vanished soon after, Jeff promising postcards from Africa and Jack quietly slipping away without saying anything.

Rachel didn't blame him for that, but she did appreciate that he had come. Despite everything, she would like to think he could be in her life somehow. She would always love him a little bit, just as she had always loved Frank even while she and Jack had been together.

Mick and Alex didn't leave right away, having found a secluded spot on the beach, they were watching as the moon took over the sky and the stars twinkled, like they had millions of years ago when their light had been sent out. Only now had it reached Earth.

"So what do you want to do?" Mick asked after a while.

"I don't know.. I wasn't exactly planning on this," she replied, leaning against the tree. He stepped closer, reaching out to touch her abdomen.

"There's someone alive in there," he said in awe, and she smiled. "Our baby, you know?"

"Easy for you to say, I have to do all the work!"

"I love you, Alex," he cut in softly, caressing her face. "I want to have a baby with you and I'll be there, whatever you need."

"I love you too," she whispered, and it seemed so easy to say it.

Up on the hill, Rachel sat down in the grass (bugger the dress!) and smiled. Cops and cops seemed to mix an awful lot these days. Alex had looked rather bleak earlier, and Rachel had her own idea why.

"Hey," Frank said softly, dropping down to sit beside her. He looked very buff, all dressed up, but she had serious plans to get him out of the clothes pretty fast. He was even more buff without any.

"What are you doing?"

"Watching Alex and Mick," she replied, and pointed over to where Mick and Alex were now hugging and kissing.

"Spying are we?"

"It's called surveillance, Frank. Look it up in the police handbook."

"Yeah, sure," he replied. "You think they'll make it?"

"If we did, anyone can."

He chuckled, watching Mick and Alex walk away, holding hands and he hoped it would work for them. They seemed good together. And he still owed Mick an embarrassing interruption of some kind – the guy was not getting out of that.

"Did you hear?" Frank said softly after a while.

"What?"

"They're gonna rebuild Harbour Bridge."

"It won't be the same."

"No."

He glanced over at her. She seemed sad, but there was something beautiful over here nevertheless, her hair seeming to shine even in the darkness. Across her forehead the scar had lost most of its colour, and eventually it would turn into nothing but a thin white line. But it would always be there.

Scars never really went away. They just faded.

There would be a new bridge, a new morning and new hope. And the faded scars would be a reminder never to take anything for granted.

"Do you think we'll have mattered in the end?" she suddenly asked, and a somewhat similar conversation they had once had occurred to him. Back then, it was he who had asked the question after he'd very nearly been killed.

"Ah.. We're just ants, Rachel. We're just ants you and I."

She glanced up at him, the faint outline of a smile on her lips. She remembered the conversation too, and what she had told him. "Think we can be happy ants?"

"I like to think so."

"Happily ever after eh?"

"Nah. Too boring."

She chuckled softly, leaning against his chest as he moved to sit behind her. He sneaked an arm around her waist, holding her close as they both looked at the skyline and the "Eternity" sign that had been placed where the bridge once had been. It was a tribute to the bridge that had been put up a few weeks earlier, and would probably be there a while. Maybe forever.

Moving on is not the same as forgetting. And the sign was a symbol of that.

"You do realise we're on our honeymoon?" he whispered in her ear and she smiled

"You're hopeless, Frank."

"I know," he answered softly.

And she kissed him there, under the stars and in the light of Eternity.

Fini

Author's Rather Personal Note: That's it, chickies. No more ratfic from Cam. I'd just like to say I've had a blast, and I cannot thank all those who have given feedback enough. I bow to you all. May you always find water and shade!


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